


The Dragon's Fury

by thefamegangsta



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Daenerys Targaryen Is Not a Mad Queen, Dead Characters No Longer Dead, F/F, F/M, M/M, Original Mythology, Season 7 fix-it, Targaryen Restoration, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:48:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21931720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefamegangsta/pseuds/thefamegangsta
Summary: Daenerys Targaryen, rightful queen of the Seven Kingdoms, is murdered after the Battle of King's Landing. Her sole remaining child, Drogon, takes her to the Red Temple in Volantis where she is not only revived, but sent back in time to her arrival in Westeros to prevent herself from becoming the person that was murdered by Jon Snow, and to prevent the deaths of her allies. The Long Night is fast approaching, but a greater threat looms beyond the Night King, and Daenerys must assume her position on the Iron Throne to lead humanity through it's gravest threat yet.
Relationships: Daenerys Targaryen/OC, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, OC/OC
Comments: 90
Kudos: 174





	1. TRANSCENDENCE

Drogon’s massive figure cast an ominous shadow over the ancient city of Volantis, sending a wave of panic over the Volantene people. Word had spread over the land of Daenerys’ destruction of King’s Landing, and how it was brought upon the back of her beloved child, Drogon. 

However, Drogon circled the city until he found what he was looking for: The Red Temple. He lowered himself towards the great building, until he landed just in front of its doors, letting out a heartbreaking cry. The doors opened, and High Priestess Kinvara strode out, accompanied by two other Red Priests. They looked, in shock, as Drogon released his grip on Daenerys’ body and presented it to them. The massive beast then began to stare intently at the three followers of R’hllor, as if he was attempting to communicate with them. 

“Retrieve her body, carefully, and take it to the Great Hall.” Kinvara commanded to a group of followers nearby. The dragon stepped back, allowing the men to grab the Queen’s body. Once inside, Kinvara and the Red Priests laid her carefully on a stone table and began to perform the ritual of resurrection. 

Hours, then days passed with no reaction from the Lord of Light. Kinvara sat before the decomposing body of Daenerys Targaryen, silently pondering the effectiveness of the resurrection ritual. Word had spread wide of Melisandre’s success with one Jon Snow, yet the same success was not shared with Kinvara. “Maybe we could take the Fiery Hand and strike back at --” High Priest, Ouros, entered the room visibly angered. Kinvara cut him off, “There will be no need. She is the Prince Who Was Promised, and will lead us past the threat awaiting this world, greater than that of Winter.” She walked cautiously towards a bookshelf, with one particular text sticking out.

The High Priestess grabbed it and handed it to Ouros. “Gather every beating heart within the Temple. There is one more way we can bring her back.”

Hundreds of Red Priests and Priestesses packed into the Great Hall of the Red Temple. At the center of the enormous room, Daenerys’ body lay on a pyre. At the sides of the pyre, two servants held torches. Kinvara gritted her teeth. This must work. If not…

“ _Valar Morghulis_ , my brothers and sisters. You have all been chosen to assist in the ritual of Transcendence.” With that last word, chatter and a wave of anxiety filled the room.

“It has not been performed in a thousand years, mostly due in part to its brutality. However, in the wake of the failure of Resurrection, our Lord beckons us to go one step further, Transcendence.” Kinvara stepped towards the body and grabbed a blade from another Priest. “With our sacrifice, Daenerys Stormborn will be sent to live within her former body to prevent her premature demise and defend this world from the threat that lies ahead. Yes, winter came and was defeated, but it should be known that there is a threat that dwarfs that of the King of Winter, and Daenerys Stormborn is our only hope to stop that threat.”

Kinvara took another step forward and began chanting in Valyrian and was soon joined by the entire room, creating a chorus of prayers. She nodded to the servant, who set the pyre aflame. “She is the unburnt, but will be rebirthed by the flame and the blood of a hundred believers who will pay for her life with their own.”

She took a breath, and drove the blade into her heart, forcing Kinvara into a darkness that was... _warm_.

\--  
Daenerys could not see, nor could she feel. She simply, _was_. A voice began to speak, at first in an unrecognizable language, then the common tongue. 

“ _My champion. You were failed by those who were sent to aid you in the realization of your destiny, and your life was ended as a result. With the payment of death, your life will be reborn in a new reality not so different from your own. You will find yourself in your body as you began a new step in your life, with an opportunity to prevent your allies from stabbing you in the back, rather you will find new faces to aid you in your realization as the Prince who Was Promised. Tell only those who you trust with your life of your knowledge, for information is a weapon and that weapon in the wrong hands will lead to a permanent death._ ”

Before she could think, Daenerys was blinded by a light, then the smell of salt filled her senses.  
\--  
The Dragon Queen jerked to consciousness while her small boat was being pedaled to the shore of Dragonstone. She took several large breaths and grabbed the spot on her body where Jon Snow’s dagger had been stuck. Instead, she felt fabric. 

“Your grace, is everything alright?” 

That voice… Daenerys turned to see a beautiful copper-skinned woman with a look of concern on her face. “M..” before she could finish her sentence, Daenerys embraced Missandei as she burst into a fit of tears, drawing the attention of Varys and Tyrion. She broke from the embrace and stroked her friends’ face. “Y..your grace?” Missandei managed, giggling. Dany caught herself and straightened her body out. “I apologize. I just felt like I haven’t thanked you enough for your presence by my side.”

Once they reached the shore, Daenerys knelt down and placed her palm upon the sandy ground of Dragonstone’s beaches. Beneath it, she could feel the heat, the warmth that had beckoned her to leave the comfort of the Great Pyramid in Mereen. _Home_. As she scaled the winding steps to the entrance of the castle proper, an inescapable feeling of lust filled her body. Not for another person, but for the throne of thrones that had been the goal of her entire adult life, and the scaling of these steps was her first real step to becoming the Queen of her homeland. She had been through all of this before, but Daenerys couldn’t help but revel in the feeling of accomplishment again. Yet, with each step, she could still taste the ash in the air of the Throne Room of King’s Landing.

Daenerys couldn’t help but sense something approaching. It was a feeling that was familiar, yet completely foreign; one that shared the same wavelength as her dragons. Nevertheless, she moved forward and reclaimed what was hers. But first, she had to inform her closest allies in her court of her situation, if they will listen. _They will have to listen_ , she thought. She could not hold knowledge of the future hostage for her safety as well as those around her, for she could not bear to see their fates come about again. 

Upon entrance to the Throne Room, Daenerys glanced at Grey Worm, Missandei, and Qhono and commanded to them in a mix of Valyrian and Dothraki. “Meet me in my quarters once they are arranged. Make sure no one follows or listens.” 

\--  
“That’s very nice to hear.” Lady Olenna said. “Of course, I can’t remember a queen that was better loved than my granddaughter. The common people loved her; the nobles loved her. And what is left of her now? Ashes. Commoners, nobles, they’re all just children, really. They won’t obey you unless they fear you.”

The words of the Queen of Thorns burned into the psyche of Daenerys. Fear. She gripped the table in front of her and took a deep breath, never giving into the pressure that was mounting on her to make a move. 

Inside, Daenerys knew that Lady Olenna was right. She had allowed Tyrion to give his “Queen of the Ashes” speech and played along with it, until the Queen of Thorns gave her speech about her granddaughter. This was her chance to right her wrong in her previous life, to protect the lives of her allies. 

“Lady Olenna, I thank you profoundly for your counsel, as well as everyone in this room.” Daenerys gave a strong, supportive look at the Greyjoys, Martells, and Tyrell representatives. “I have taken all of this into account and will have to recant my previous statement.”  
This was met with a variety of reactions, with smiles coming across the faces of the matriarchs and a look of worry from her Hand. 

“We will attack King’s Landing as soon as possible.” Daenerys walked over to the part of the table that resembled the east coast of Westeros and grabbed the Targaryen pieces. My Unsullied and Dothraki will set sail for the mainland in a month, to meet with the combined Dornish and Tyrell forces outside of King’s Landing to lay siege to the capital.” 

Tyrion stepped forward and began to speak, “My queen but--” and was promptly cut off by the Mother of Dragons.

:”We will give Cersei one day to surrender. If not, I will take my children and burn down the Red Keep.” This sentence drew a smile on the faces of Yara Greyjoy and Ellaria Sand, who were nearly foaming at the mouth at the thought of spilling Lannister blood. 

“Very well, my queen. We will set sail as soon as possible to ferry the Dornish back to Sunspear and provide transport to King’s Landing.” Yara stated proudly, placing her fist on her chest. “We shall blockade the capital from Blackwater Bay, preventing any supplies from entering the city, as well as preventing any interference from Euron.” 

Daenerys smiled at Yara, knowing that Euron will be waiting for her in Blackwater Bay. “Then it seems that we are in agreement on the plan to reclaim what is mine. However, you will not be going alone.” 

At this, both Yara and Ellaria looked at each other in confusion and excitement, then back to the Dragon Queen. 

“My children and I will accompany you out of Blackwater Bay and partly down the coast, to ensure that we have no unexpected visitors from the capital that wish to interrupt your voyage.” Daenerys returned to the head of the table and looked at all of her supporters.

“This will be a moment told in children’s stories for years to come.” She opened her palms in a welcoming way towards the matriarchs. “I dismiss you all with the following statement: Fire & Blood will come to our enemies, and Bread & Butter will come to those who support us. Until I am sitting upon the Iron Throne, pain, suffering, and death will come to the Lannisters, their army, and their way of life.”

A loud round of cheers was made by the attendees, one that was met with a smirk by Daenerys. 

**BLACKWATER BAY**  
A thick fog covered the bay as the enormous fleet of Greyjoy ships sailed south towards Sunspear. Far above, Daenerys, riding Drogon with Rhaegal and Viserion flanking them, watched as her allies peacefully made their way out of the Bay. She looked towards King’s Landing, her rightful seat, in awe of the raw size of the city. The moonlight blanked the water and washed Daenerys with a warming light. Her eyes watched as the water reflected the image of the moon perfectly and silently waited for Euron’s flagship, the Silence, to come into view.

Daenerys’ heart skipped a beat. There it is. Underneath the moonlight, and hiding behind the thick fog, was a fleet of ships that were pointed straight at her allies’. She beckoned Drogon to descend and when she did, she saw the sails of Greyjoy ships -- not her own, but ships bearing red eyes upon the golden Kraken. Not again. On the back of Drogon, Daenerys led her three dragons and descended at full speed towards the Silence.

Yara Greyjoy sat and drank with Ellaria Sand while they flirted openly throughout the voyage. Yara eyed her Dornish counterpart. She imagined spreading her legs and showing Ellaria how love is made in the Iron Islands, a rush of passion inflamed her own chest as she lusted for the Dornishwoman. Yara was enamored with her incredibly exotic and welcoming accent and…

Before she could finish her thought, an explosion rocked the ship. She glanced at Ellaria and commanded her to stay put. When Yara reached the top of the ship, the night sky was illuminated with fire. Through a thick patch a fog, she could see hundreds of fires atop the water, with a column of flame leading from a triad of enormous figures igniting new fires upon other vessels.

_Daenerys!_ Yara thought, _but who is she attacking? Could it be…_ One of her crewmen yelled to Yara, and fished a large piece of cloth from the sea. After unfurling it on the deck, a Kraken with red eyes revealed itself. Yara exploded into a chorus of laughter as she looked to the flames. _That fucker finally got what was coming, Fire and Blood indeed._

With the Iron Fleet destroyed, Daenerys and her children flew back to Dragonstone successful in preventing the deaths of her key allies that derailed her invasion in the previous life. However, she was not leaving empty handed. In Drogon’s clutches was an unconscious man, her prisoner. 

Upon landing on the hills of Dragonstone, they were met by Grey Worm, Qhono, and a contingent of Dothraki & Unsullied. As soon as Daenerys landed, the man in Drogon’s clutches was apprehended and bound by his hands and legs. Daenerys looked to Qhono. “Wake him.”

After a few strikes from the Dothraki leader, the man shook awake and began screaming obscenities at the Dragon Queen, until he was gagged by Grey Worm.

“Euron Greyjoy, self-proclaimed King of the Iron Islands, and supporter of Cersei Lannister.” Daenerys’ voice was firm and powerful. “In due time, you will commit a number of atrocities that will cost the lives of many close to me. That is, if I had let you launch the surprise ambush you had oh so masterfully planned against my allies.”

Euron turned his head in confusion, then in anger.

Daenerys continued. “Therefore, I cannot let you live, for I have a throne to secure and a Kingdom to rule over.” She motioned to her men to stand back from the prisoner. “I, Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of Meereen, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons, sentence you to die.” Euron’s face turned hysterical, as he writhed against the bonds that held his limbs. 

Instead of having her largest dragon, Drogon, execute Euron, she brought Rhaegal forward. In the past life, Rhaegal had been butchered by Euron’s fleet and left to die at the bottom of Blackwater Bay. She walked up to her child and stroked his cheek for a moment until she stepped back. “Dracarys.” In seconds, the most dangerous pirate in Westeros had been reduced to ash. 

Smiling, Daenerys looked to her men. “Very well. Shall we get some sleep?”


	2. THE QUEEN'S MIGHT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Bronn are met by a surprise at Highgarden. Cersei faces her demons. Daenerys prepares for war.

“...and were there  _ any  _ survivors?” Cersei Lannister’s voice scratched at the walls of the Throne Room. She gripped the Iron Throne with such force that her hands began to turn white.

Her Hand, Qyburn, stood before her reading a report from royal scouts in the area. “No...your Grace. And it seems that Euron Greyjoy remains missing. Our best men are still on the lookout for him, however…” Before he finished his sentence, Qyburn looked to the queen, who was gritting her teeth.

“...it seems that his entire fleet was destroyed by dragonfire, with no ships to spare.” He placed the parchment pack into his pocket. “Although they are naturally opposed to House Lannister, I highly suggest we reach out to House Redwyne or one of the other coastal--” before Qyburn could finish his sentence, Cersei stood.

“HOW COULD SHE HAVE KNOWN?” Her voice echoed throughout the whole Red Keep like a lion’s roar. 

“Your Grace it was probably a lucky--” 

“NO.” Cersei began twitching at the mouth. “There are spies among us, those that wish to see that silver-haired bitch on  _ my _ throne.” She motioned for Ser Gregor to step forward. “I want all of the handmaidens in this castle to stand before me, to prove their loyalty.”

It took less than an hour, but Qyburn managed to gather every single handmaiden in the Red Keep, as they stood before their towering queen.

“If you didn’t know, we are at war with the Mad King’s daughter.” Cersei stood from her seated position upon the Iron Throne and looked down upon her servants. “Just a few nights ago, her and her filthy dragons laid waste upon Euron Greyjoy’s Iron Fleet and destroyed every single ship in what was supposed to be a surprise attack on Yara Greyjoy’s rebellious fleet.” She took a step down the stairs leading to the throne. 

“Now, this attack was only coordinated and discussed within the walls of this castle.” Cersei took another step. 

“Meaning, one of you is a traitor to the Throne and all of Westeros.” Cersei raised her hand slightly, signalling Ser Gregor Clegane to move to her side. “Today, you will prove your loyalty and swear upon the Old Gods and the New that you are innocent.” The girls, all visibly shaken, looked amongst each other in confusion and one among them stepped forward.

“My queen, we have humbly served your family since your late husband, King Robert, ruled.” A few of the other handmaidens nodded. “There is not one among--” Before she could finish, The Mountain received a look from Cersei, and he stepped forward.

“You.” Cersei began. “Did I give you permission to speak?” This was returned by the handmaiden shaking her head furiously and dropping to her knees, crying.

“Do you think this is a joke? Do you think that that silver-haired bitch won’t replace each and every one of you with one of her savage Dothraki bitches?” She smiled at the handmaiden, as if to give mercy. 

“We are at war, and cannot spare a single crack in our foundation.” Cersei then looked at Ser Gregor. “Now, Ser Gregor, let us show everyone how insubordination is handled by your Queen.” 

The Mountain stepped forward, in front of the pleading handmaiden. He dropped to a knee, and looked into her eyes. He then grabbed her by the arm and forced her to stand.

“Let this serve as a warning to all those who would stand with the Usurper against the Crown.” At this, Ser Gregor drew his sword, and held it at his waist, making sure that all of the handmaidens saw.

The servant who had been forcefully stood by the Mountain began to shake her head, and began pleading. “No...no my queen please! I will do anything!” She became hysterical at the sight of the Mountain’s sword. 

Cersei turned her head. “Anything? Well, I do have one way to preserve your life.” She smirked.

“Shut your fucking mouth.” With this, Cersei began to laugh hysterically. This was met by a smile from Qyburn, who was watching intently. Mid-laugh, Cersei relaxed her face. “Kill her.” With this, she scaled the stairs to the Throne as Ser Gregor swung his sword over the head of the servant, and brought it down on her head. The massive blade split her in half, splattering blood and pieces of her insides on the remaining servants.

Once sitting on the Throne, Cersei watched in glee as the handmaidens were in complete shock at the scene before them. Blood blanketed the floor of the Throne Room and began to pool. “Let this serve as a warning. If you betray the Crown in any way, even doing something as small as providing logistics to our enemies, you will meet the same fate as her, or I will allow Ser Gregor to have his way with you. Now, I want this mess cleaned up before she shits herself.”

**THE REACH**

Ser Jaime Lannister and Ser Bronn of the Blackwater led the Lannister army, recently having welcomed the rebellious Tarly contingent, towards the castle of Highgarden. As it came into sight, Jaime remarked about the beauty of the castle.

“It’s a shame, really. Such a shining piece of architecture and agriculture amongst a continent of shit and rats, yet they choose to side with the Targaryen girl.” He and Bronn continued down the Roseroad, until they stopped a mile outside of the castle. 

They stood there for hours, waiting for a Tyrell force to meet them for battle, yet faced no one. “Maybe they all died in fright of the  _ legend _ Jaime Lannister” Bronn jeered, clearly bored by the situation at hand. 

“Fuck off.” Jaime retorted, before returning focus to the castle. He then looked to Randyll Tarly, who had begun to grow impatient behind him. “Ready the siege teams. We’re going to see who’s home.”

Jaime and Bronn led the siege troops to the gates of Highgarden, shields drawn and ready for battle. 

Yet, when they reached the gates, no such battle waited for them. The gates to the castle lay wide open and deserted. They entered the castle, expecting an ambush from all sides. “Be on alert. We are most likely walking into an ambush.” The soldiers strode through the gates in battle formation, ready for a fight. 

What they found inside the gates was silence. Not a servant, guard, or noble in sight. They began going room to room, with the same result in each. Jaime himself went to Olenna’s quarters, the largest in the castle, and found nothing but a single rose on the table in the center. 

Still, even with a lack of Tyrells to murder, Jaime still had special orders from Cersei with specific instructions on what to do with the gold within the castle. 

**THE KINGSWOOD**

With Randyll Tarly turning against the Rightful Queen, Olenna Tyrell had to find another general to lead her banners to war. For this decision, she turned to one of her most loyal fighters, Lucas Spirre, who hailed from a small townlet outside of Goldengrove, just north of Highgarden, a cousin of the Tyrells. His skill with a sword were unparalleled, and his victories over Ser Loras Tyrell in one-on-one combat were forgotten to preserve his reputation. This, along with his elite education and instincts, are what prompted the Queen of Thorns to choose this young, unproven fighter to lead her army against her sworn enemy, Cersei Lannister.

Lucas stood atop a hill immediately outside of the Kingswood and searched the horizon with his sea-blue eyes. He could see King’s Landing, with the Red Keep’s towers piercing the sky like stingers. His short-cropped golden hair shone in the wind, reflecting off of the silver armor that covered his tall body that was ripe with muscles, as if hand-carved out of stone. 

It wasn’t long before he saw it. Flapping in the wind, along the coast, was the banner of the sun, that of House Martell. Behind the lead flagbearer, thousands of soldiers from the only land untouched by the War of the Five Kings marched in vengeance for Elia Martell, her children, and Oberyn Martell. Their spears marched in a fashion and uniform only bested by the Unsullied, with whom they were going to be fighting alongside against the inevitable Lannister force that is going to face them...once they realize the perfectly-timed orders from Queen Daenerys placed them hundreds of miles behind on the Roseroad. 

The sun set on the shore of the Narrow Sea as tents were pitched and fires were drawn for the joint Tyrell-Martell force. Inside the commander’s tent, Lucas Spirre and Ellaria Sand sat and discussed their plans for the Lannisters.

“I plan to hang that monstrous mountain from the walls of the Keep with Cersei’s skin and watch them both die living.” Ellaria said, bluntly. Lucas was sent aback with a chuckle. 

“Now, let’s be civil here. We should take it one step at a time, like how we’re going to decide who kills Cersei. Me? You? The Queen? Maybe we should decide by who kills the most Queensguard.” Lucas took a sip of wine, before standing and leaning over the table that had a map of King’s Landing and the Crownlands on it. 

  
“We’ve been delayed a day, the Queen currently has her best agents retrieving some blacksmith from Flea Bottom, meaning we should reach the gates in about a week.” Lucas said, while drawing his finger over to the gates of King’s Landing. “We shall set up around the outskirts and begin the siege at dawn once we arrive. Considering our loss of time, we should be watching the horizon for Jaime’s contingent arriving at any point.” Ellaria nodded.

She stood and walked next to Lucas. “Once the signal is given and the attack begins, I am going to race you to the Red Keep.” She began to trace a path from the city’s front gates to the Red Keep, until she reached Lucas’ hand. His face ran hot, and he quickly withdrew his hand. 

“Oh? I figured since you’re an avid drinker of Dornish wine, that you’d want to have a taste of Dornish pleasure.” She bit her lip in pleasure, and gave him a devilish look.

“We are about to go to war. My nerves would keep me from any satisfaction. Please forgive me.” Lucas managed “Now, about these Sand Snakes...Queen Daenerys specifically asked them to locate the caches of Wildfire under our path to the Red Keep before the attack so that…” his heart jumped. The loss of his cousins Margaery and Loras to wildfire weighed heavy on him.  _ I should have been there, I should have killed each and every single one of those Sparrows before they mutilated him… _

He didn’t realize that he had zoned out and eyes had watered up before clenching his fist in anger. Lucas’ eyes met Ellaria’s, who were filled with the same passion as his own. “We’ll avenge them, and end that damned House once and for all.”

**KING’S LANDING**

Cersei read the parchment before her. “They think they’re in position to make demands? The Red Keep has never fallen, and it won’t today.” 

She looked out of her balcony to the walls of the city. Enemy soldiers blanketed the hills surrounding the city, waiting to pillage the one piece of the world she still had control over. Behind her, a large glass of wine was poured for her, and handed by Qyburn. 

“Your Grace, reports from the wall estimate over 50 thousand enemies wait outside the walls, and the Targaryen host has still not arrived.” Qyburn twisted his hands and continued. “The Lannister fleet has arrived and is now in formation outside of the Keep, with a vessel ready for you--” 

Cersei threw her cup on the ground. “I don’t want to hear that. We will win. Our garrison within the city will fight for their queen, and Jaime’s force combined with our new friends will crush these fools into submission.” 

She turned to face Qyburn. “Should our forces get defeated...is the Wildfire ready?” He gave her a nervous look.

“I sent my little birds at sunrise to prepare the caches, but I have not heard from them since. Perhaps, as children do, they get distracted by a game after completing my request.” He offered.

“For their sakes, they better have.” Cersei said coldly, before returning to the balcony.

\--

**DRAGONSTONE**

A day had passed since Daenerys’ raven to the Red Keep had been issued. Cersei’s time was up. During the night, the combined Dothraki and Unsullied force met with the Martell-Tyrell army sieging the city. 

She sat upon the throne at Dragonstone, where she awaited the project that she had commissioned with the smuggling of a particular blacksmith from Flea Bottom. 

The large doors to the room opened and a strong, chiseled man walked in, followed by two Unsullied. The man smiled and took a knee. “Your Grace, I present to you, a gift.”

\--

Cersei sat in anticipation on the Iron Throne, relishing her place as Queen for the time being. The Throne Room was empty, save for Ser Gregor and her contingent of Queensguard, with the silence allowing invasive thoughts to assault her before any Dothraki could. Maggie The Frog’s prophecy echoed through her head.  _ Queen you shall be... until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear. _

She shed a tear, as anxiety ripped through her chest. Joffrey. Myrcella. Tommen. Her entire brood was dead, and her soulmate was somewhere marching to her rescue, all too late. The Dragon Queen and her horde were already here, ready to put her to slaughter. That tear became two, then three, then Cersei broke into a hysterical cry as the sight of her dead children haunted her very being. She didn’t love many, but she loved them. 

Qyburn strode through the Throne Room’s doors. “Your Grace, the Iron Fleet has arrived in Blackwater Bay and appears to have anchored itself across the bay from our own, alongside Daenerys’ armada.” He gritted his teeth. “Perhaps we should…”

Cersei, snapping from her hysteria, with tears and snot covering her face, “Surrender? You would have us surrender to an army of savages and eunuchs? Not to mention the armies of the people I murdered at the Sept?” She breathed heavily and bared her teeth, as a Lion would. 

“Your Grace, I would nev--” Before Qyburn could finish his sentence, Cersei raised her palm, to quiet him and force him to a knee.

“Has the prototype been deployed? That is all I want to know.” Cersei gripped her palms into a fist.

“Yes, Your Grace. We have three deployed, and Ser Jaime has one in his party. However, they have never been tes--” Cersei raised her palm again.

“They were tested for us, in Dorne against her ancestors, and worked. That is all I need to know. Now please, leave me.”

\--

“Your Grace, please I am begging you. Do not attack them head on. The amount of lives that will be lost from you unleashing the drag--” Daenerys turned sharply and glared at Tyrion. Wind blew in both of their faces upon the green at Dragonstone. 

“My Lord Hand, you have served me well. However, I received a profound piece of advice from Lady Olenna that I intend to heed. I am a dragon, not a lion, not a wolf, and I will rule as a dragon.” She stepped forward with a fire in here eyes and clenching her fists, forcing Tyrion to take a step back. “I am here to take what is mine. The people of Westeros will not respect me if they do not fear me. Anyone in my way will become ashes.” Daenerys began to turn around before leaving one last remark. “Anyone.”

Daenerys turned quickly and strode towards her largest child, Drogon, and climbed atop his back. The large black dragon crawled forward before leaping and batting his enormous wings, carrying him into the air. He was immediately followed by his two brothers, Rhaegal and Viserion.

Tyrion watched the three dragons fly above the clouds towards King’s Landing as a ball of anxiety formed in his chest. He returned to the Chamber of the Painted Table, where Olenna Tyrell sat by the hearth alongside Missandei. The two were chuckling over conversation, before Tyrion sullenly walked in.

He spied Varys sitting alone, looking outside the window. He sat beside the Spider and joined his brooding. The sounds of thousands of Dothraki warhorns could be heard all the way to the walls of Dragonstone. Tyrion took a drink.  _ It has begun. Gods help us all. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the Kudos and for reading! Your comments are much appreciated :) The next chapter will be the Battle of King's Landing, and possibly more *wink* Until next time! ~ <3


	3. THE BATTLE OF KING'S LANDING

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle of King's Landing begins.

A cool, winter wind befell the outskirts of King’s Landing. Lucas sat atop his white mount, heading the largest army on the continent, alongside Grey Worm and Ellaria Sand. They all watched the gates, and their gazes were returned by Lannister guards, all of whom had bows trained on their hearts.

“What is taking so long? Why are we waiting, let us begin the slaughter!” Ellaria groaned. Grey Worm turned to her and said simply, “You will know.”

\--

Positioned on the gates to the Red Keep were three Scorpions, ready to slaughter each of Daenerys’ dragons. Cersei had demanded that her best bowmen be chosen to be the gunners of said Scorpions, and her request had been granted. Three of the best archers from the Crownlands all sat in the gunner seats of the weapons.

Aydan Lainor, hailing from a townlet just south of King’s Landing, gripped the trigger of the Scorpion so hard that the palms of his hands began to run white. He thought of his children, his wife, and his desire to murder the dragons quickly so that he could return to his family. The Hand of the Queen hand stormed into their home with a dozen soldiers in tow and taken his family hostage until he agreed to fight against the Dragon Queen, and those soldiers remained inside of his home until he returned. 

He searched the sky. _Gods damn it, where are…._

Three small dots were flying completely vertical towards them. _Ravens? No, they wouldn’t be that high._ He focused his eyes, trying to make out the three shapes against the clear blue skies. The sun began to block his eyes so he moved his hand to cover his forehead when his heart nearly jumped out of its chest.

“ABOVE US!” he exclaimed as he rotated the Scorpion to the highest point it would reach, and opened fire. The bolt flew out of the weapon and raced towards the figure in the middle. However, its velocity was defeated by gravity and flew even faster towards the ground. The other two gunners attempted to shoot vertically, but the results were the same.

“RELOAD, FIRE AGAIN!” the captain of their unit yelled hysterically while the figures grew larger and larger.

Before they could completely reload, Aydan looked to the sky, and he saw her. Dressed in black armor atop her black dragon was Daenerys Targaryen, her braided silver hair blowing in the wind out of her helmet. 

He dropped his hands and let out a tear. _I’m so sorry._

“DRACARYS!” Daenerys yelled as her three dragons incinerated the Scorpions and every man preparing the weapons around it. They banked sharply and turned towards the front gates of the city. Overhead, she could see Lannister soldiers crowding the streets, forming large human shields to clog the streets against the numerically superior force waiting for them outside of the gates. 

\--

Grey Worm stood at the front of the Targaryen coalition and began to command orders to his Unsullied soldiers, preparing them for what was to come. They all sat in silence as they watched Daenerys and her children destroyed something in the distance, and disappeared under the skyline of the walls. Minutes passed, when Grey Worm yelled out a command, and the Unsullied locked into formation. 

“Prepare yourselves. It is time.” Grey Worm turned to Lucas and silently slid his helmet on his head. Lucas met this with a nod and equipped his own. 

They could hear screaming on the other side of the wall, causing a stir amongst the Westerosi soldiers. Seconds later it burst open, with dragonfire completely destroying the front gates and surrounding wall. The Unsullied, Dothraki, and Westerosi forces charged, seeing their opening, screaming in unison as the three dragons screamed above them. 

Daenerys’ supporters flooded the streets of King’s Landing, each racing the other to the walls of the Red Keep in each of the long corridors that led to the castle. The first wave of Lannister soldiers fought valiantly, but were woefully underprepared for the ferocity displayed by the invaders. The Dothraki made quick work of the footsoldiers, using their enormous warhorses to trample all that stood in their way. 

The Unsullied marched forward, spears ready, and completely outclassed the Lannister defenders, forcing them into either a full retreat or death. They reached a small plaza, where an enormous knight stood at the front of a large group of defenders. Grey Worm stepped forward and tightened his armor, flanked by his two best fighters. 

The footsoldiers on both sides charged at each other, while Grey Worm and the knight circled each other amongst the fighting. The defender lunged first and swung his sword, which met the Unsullied shield with a deafening ring. Grey Worm used the momentum from the lunge to fling the knight off balance, giving him an opportunity to strike. The Unsullied general struck with his spear and stuck it directly through the chest of the knight. The Lannister fighter fell to his back, which was now being supported by the sharp end of a spear. 

The city was in chaos. Dead soldiers littered the streets, while the living continued to pillage and murder their way to the Red Keep. Smoke began to clog the air, forming a cloud of ash, dust, and death that hung over the city and approached the Red Keep quickly. 

Lucas led his army of Reachmen with a determination that no man could match. He dispatched every challenger and inspired his soldiers to fight for their fallen Tyrells. Tears filled his eyes as he swung his sword, thinking of the days he would spend with his cousins, Loras and Margaery, when they grew up. No man could stop him until he got his revenge. A war cry erupted from above. He looked to the sky, and saw Daenerys circling with her dragons.

_I can’t repeat what happened -- It’s too much of a risk._ Daenerys battled herself in her head. She could see her army completely decimating the Lannister force, but as the descendant of Aegon the Conqueror, she couldn’t sit idly by as her battle was fought for her. The temptation was monstrous to swoop down atop Drogon and burn every single soldier and repeat the same mistake that set off the wildfire in her past life. It wasn’t until she saw her armies reach the gates of the castle that she knew what she would do.

\--

Cersei sat on the Throne and stared at the doors to the Throne Room. She could hear the screams of the people of King’s Landing, as well as the cries of her soldiers get nearer. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably, spilling wine onto her dress. 

Qyburn entered the Throne Room and looked at Cersei with a broken stare. “Your Grace, they have reached the gates of the castle.” With this, the Lion simply laughed in denial, before straightening her face. She sat there, motionless, staring into the abyss. She knew what had to be done. 

“Burn them all.” Cersei stood. “BURN THEM ALL TO ASHES!” She slammed her goblet of wine on the ground in front of the throne, shattering it and sending rubies flying across the room.   
  


“That’s just it, Your Grace” Qyburn began. “I fear my little birds have been turned against us. I have not--” Before he could finish his sentence, they both heard the gates to the castle being struck. It has begun.

\--

“ONE...TWO...THREE!” A group of Reachmen used a battering ram to attempt to force the gates to the Red Keep open, when the Dornish army arrived, led by a bloodied Ellaria. 

“Stop it, you incompetent fools.” She said, striding forward. “Just wait.”

On the other side of the gate, the sound of blades clashing and a whip being cracked seeped through the wood of the doors. Eventually, they opened slowly. Waiting on the other side were the Sand Snakes, who had the eyes of successful carnivores that were shown on their bloody faces. 

Lucas was bewildered. “But how did they--” His sentence was cut off by Ellaria, who ran past him. “I thought we were racing to kill the queen?” she said, smiling. Before he could respond, the Unsullied arrived along with the Dothraki, and both groups advanced into the castle proper.

Cersei could hear the fighting enter the castle. Qyburn was pleading with her, but she did not care. She was drunk, and knew her fate. It wasn’t long until the doors to the Throne Room burst open, with familiar, and unfamiliar faces behind them. 

The Queensguard stepped forward and locked into formation in front of their queen, swords drawn. Lucas, Grey Worm and Qhono stepped to the front of their formation, and brought forward their best fighters. They were soon joined by the Sand Snakes, who licked their lips at the sight of a panicking Cersei Lannister. 

One of the Queensguard stepped forward, but paused suddenly. Everyone in the room could sense something was off. They turned around and looked at the Iron Throne, and their faces drained of color. 

“What the FUCK are you looking at? FIGHT FOR YOUR QUEEN!” Cersei demanded. Then, she heard it. She hadn’t realized the light coming from the window behind her no longer reflected any sunlight. Her heart began to race. _What in th..._ before her thought could be finished, the walls of the Throne Room were completely caved in a fury of dragonfire, sending the room into chaos. 

With the wall gone, Cersei turned from the Throne to see Daenerys Targaryen atop Drogon, smirking. The Mountain turned to face her, his massive sword drawn. Daenerys turned her head in curiosity, before Drogon inched closer to the throne, and in one swing, used his tail with a _SMACK_ to send Ser Gregor flying across the room into a pillar, with his body landing in front of the Sand Snakes. 

Shaking, Cersei backed away from the Throne, until she fell from the steps and onto the floor of the Throne Room. She spit on the floor in defiance of Daenerys, garnering some respect from the Dragon Queen. _At least she’s going down fighting…_

She backed Drogon up, clearing enough room for Rhaegal and Viserion to come into view. The soldiers watched as Daenerys calmly commanded her dragons in High Valyrian, and they swooped into the Throne Room, landing in front of Cersei. The two dragons began snapping at Cersei, as if taunting her. She fell into complete panic, backing up hysterically until she froze, unable to move as the dragons inched forward, seemingly smiling. Seeing this, Qyburn attempted to escape the room by leaving through a side door, where two Dothraki were waiting, on specific orders from Daenerys to seize Cersei’s Hand. Rhaegal and Viserion continued to taunt Cersei, until Viserion grabbed her by the leg, breaking it, and dragging her out of the room. Every soldier, save for the Targaryen coalition, in the room watched in horror as the two beasts fought over a screaming Cersei Lannister, until they tore her in two, and roasted their respective pieces and consumed them. Daenerys landed violently on purpose, shaking the room and glared at the Queensguard, who all dropped their swords. 

“The era of Lannister domination and terror of these Kingdoms is at an end.” She said, with the red rubies in the breastplate of her armor shining in the sun. “I am here to reclaim what is mine, and to begin anew. Bend the knee, and you will be spared the same fate as the queen you swore to protect.” Daenerys stood atop Drogon’s back, with her braided hair moving blissfully in the wind and reflecting in the sunlight behind her.

One-by-one, the Queensguard all fell to their knees, with Drogon taking special note of anyone who hesitated. The two Dothraki who detained Qyburn stepped forward, having bound him by his hands. Following a series of commands in Dothraki, Qyburn was knocked unconscious and taken away by the two. 

Daenerys stepped down from Drogon and scaled the steps to the Iron Throne. The metal of her armor echoed through the room as she approached the Throne. She felt the arms of the legendary seat, before taking its seat to a racket of victorious screams from her supporters, who lifted their weapons in the air, before all taking to their knees. “Ellaria Sand, please step forward.” The Dornishwoman stood proudly and made her way to the steps of the throne. “It seems to me that Ser Gregor Clegane still writhes in life, albeit not much.” She motioned towards the Mountain, who was crippled but still living. “Do with him as you please. Show him the mercy that he showed Elia, Aegon, and Rhaenys.” Ellaria gave her a devilish smile as Ellaria turned and selected her strongest soldiers to lift the beast out of the Throne Room, followed by the Sand Snakes and Ellaria herself. 

Suddenly, something perked Daenerys’ mind. _Ser Jaime._ “I want all of you to prepare, as we have another battle approaching. The main Lannister force will be not a day’s ride out of King’s Landing by now. Lord Spirre, please organize the defenses on the walls and send scouts out to gauge the distance of Ser Jaime’s army. 

Lucas stood. “Yes, Your Grace.” He turned and immediately left, with a contingent of his soldiers. 

\--

**OUTSIDE THE KINGSWOOD**

_How could I have been outmaneuvered by the Mad King’s Daughter? Maybe she is the great conqueror that all of the stories talk about…_

Jaime rode at the head of his thousands of soldiers alongside Bronn, who looked as bored as one could be, before a look of shock washed across his face. Then, Jaime saw it too. Pillars of smoke rose above the city as King’s Landing finally came into view. He could see the walls of the city caved in, with the scars of dragonfire clear as day. 

  
His heart sank. _Cersei._ Although he did not want to admit it, the smoke billowing from the Red Keep confirmed her fate in his eyes. Those same eyes watched in horror as three dragons flew from the Throne Room, and lifted into the sky. He breathed a sigh of relief as they disappeared into the clouds. The relief was short-lived, however, as he saw those same dragons dive below the clouds, straight at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I really appreciate all of the comments and kudos! The battle was relatively easy for Daenerys, as it should have been with her entire coalition. However, there is one part of the country that will absolutely not accept a silver-haired ruler, and they will make their appearance next chapter ;) (possibly along with the last OCs hehe)
> 
> Until next time! ~


	4. ASCENDANCE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lion is tamed. The Wolf travels, and the Dragon returns to her rightful place.

**WINTERFELL**

“Any news from the south?” Jon leaned over one of the railings overlooking the courtyard of the capital of the North. He was taking a much-needed breather following hours of audience with Northern lords regarding the coming war against the Night King. 

Ser Davos leaned against the rail next to him. “Aye. Last we heard, the Targaryen force had camped outside of King’s Landing. The smallfolk say it’s the largest army ever assembled.” 

Jon huffed and rolled his eyes. “Sounds like an exaggeration. Nonetheless, we need to approach the victor of this battle with a pitch for support in the war to come.” Jon stood up straight. “As much as I admire their enthusiasm, what we have isn’t enough. The Army of the Dead will make quick work of the North without Southern help.” He thought of Hardhome, and the endless bodies that were raised to fight against their own will.

He felt a hand grip his shoulder. Jon turned and was face to face with his younger sister, Sansa. “I know I cannot stop you from going south.” She moved closer to him and got closer to his face. “But don’t think about giving up the sovereignty that we fought so hard for, just so we can get a few fighting men.” Sansa placed her hand on his chest. His heart was beating, fast. “You are the best fighter in Westeros. You are worth ten thousand spears, never forget that.” 

She turned on her heels and disappeared around the corner, her braided fire-red hair following her like a tail. 

Jon turned back around and saw Ser Davos, who had the look of shock on his face. 

**THE KINGSWOOD**

The three dragons dove, fast. Bronn scrambled to reach the ballista, which was near the middle of their march. However, it was too late. Rhaegal dove low, unleashing a line of flame which completely destroyed the cart that was carrying the weapon, before swooping back into the air. The explosion threw Bronn back violently, and sent splinters flying everywhere in the surrounding area. Daenerys landed atop Drogon at the front of their formation and stared down Jaime Lannister. Rhaegal and Viserion landed on the flanks, giving the army an escape route that would lead them back down the Roseroad. 

“You have lost. The Pretender Cersei Lannister is no more, as she became dinner for my children.” Jaime’s heart fell out of his chest, and he froze. Daenerys had something in her hand, and she threw it to the ground in front of Jaime. 

He looked down in horror, seeing Cersei’s bloodied crown lay in the grass. “I will pardon every single one of you here, if you bend the knee now and pledge your allegiance to your queen.” She gave them a few seconds, before mentally commanding her children to let out a horrifying cry, one that forced many Lannister soldiers, mostly Tarly bannermen, to their knees. Randyll Tarly let out a small growl, and gritted his teeth. 

“Those of you that knelt, step forward.” As they walked forward, a rumbling of hooves was heard nearing. “You all shall be spared. The rest of you,” as Daenerys spoke, thousands of Dothraki formed an endless line across the horizon behind her. “...will learn the power of the new House Targaryen.”

The Dothraki neared, with their screams growing louder by the second. Jaime’s heart jumped.

“Dracarys.” All three dragons obeyed, and the Lannister force was sent into complete chaos. Daenerys was not trying to destroy them all, but to create what she needed most out of her kingdom. Fear. 

As the soldiers were attempting to recover from the effects of shock of Dragonfire, the Dothraki slammed into their ranks without warning. The soldiers that had knelt watched in horror as the screamers slaughtered the Lannisters, sending them running back into the Kingswood. 

Jaime and Bronn fought back-to-back, reeling from the relentless onslaught of arakhs that were tiring them out. Before they knew it, several riders had surrounded the two, forcing them into a tough situation. Behind the riders, he could see Randyll Tarly being beaten senseless by an enormous screamer, and Dickon unconscious on the ground. 

Bronn looked at him, then back to the Dothraki. “Fuck this, I ain’t dyin’ for a lost war.” He threw his sword to the ground. Jaime looked around him, and thought of what could have been. Royal court with Cersei on the throne and their children at their side. His mind then shot to the Sack of King’s Landing, and the bodies of Aegon and Rhaenys. _What goes around comes around, huh?_

He dropped his sword and looked at the ground in shame. The remaining soldiers began to surrender, and those that did not were met by Dothraki steel. 

The dead littered the ground, with the Dothraki enjoying nearly no casualties. The bodies of the Lannister and Tarly soldiers were trampled to the point of being unrecognizable by Dothraki warhorses.

Qhono stepped into the fold, and began giving orders in Dothraki. The remaining soldiers who did not kneel were forced into a march, towards the capital, Bronn and Jaime included. Lucas Spirre, who had been observing from afar, rode into the battlefield and faced the traumatized soldiers who had knelt.

“Return home to your families. Tell them what happened here. Tell them of Daenerys Targaryen, their new queen, the Mother of Dragons.”

Daenerys stood on a balcony overlooking the capital, her capital. Tyrion came beside her. “Your Grace, to force them to march like this is not like you, it’s not the _breaker of chains_ that we all--” Dany turned and gave him a determined look. 

“Men are sheep. The Lords of Westeros are sheep. The only way to keep them in line is fear, and fear alone. They will not respect a monarch, a woman nonetheless, if they do not think they will die for crossing me at any moment.” She turned, watching the line of Lannister soldiers march, flanked by the Dothraki.

“I instructed them to keep your brother alive, we’re going to need him.” Daenerys said coldly.

Tyrion silently breathed a sigh of relief. “If you do not mind me asking, why do we need him?” His stress began to immediately build up again.

“Because, my lord.” She turned and began to walk back to her quarters. “I want the man who murdered my father and allowed The Mountain to kill Aegon and Rhaenys to watch as the daughter of the Targaryen dynasty is crowned Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

\-- WEEKS LATER --

**WINTERFELL**

“Jon, you are a king yourself! You do not bow to another.” Sansa lectured Jon in the Great Hall as he massaged his neck of stress. He had not been given an hour to reunite with his newly-arrived sister Arya before a raven had arrived from King’s Landing.

“Regardless, I have to appeal to her for support. When winter comes, we’re going to need every figh--” Jon was cut off by Sansa. “..fighting man and spear. Yes, Jon, you have mentioned it before. However, you know what happens to Starks that go South. What happened to our Uncle, and Father, and what could happen to you and your crown.” Jon was taken aback at Sansa’s outburst. 

“I do not have a crown.” Jon said sullenly. Ser Davos finally spoke, “Well, Your Grace, if you wish to be seen as the King in the North, maybe it would be best that you commission a crown be made for this trip, to show the lords of Westeros that we truly are an independent kingdom..” He gritted his teeth at Jon’s lack of a response. 

“I will go. This is our only opportunity to get outside help for I fear..” he stopped at that thought. Jon had flashes that sent him into a daydream. 

The beating of wings, the clashing of swords, and a woman’s scream.

“Jon?” Arya’s voice. 

He snapped to, and excused himself from the room. He returned to his quarters and sat on the side of his bed. His head ached as if it had been struck by the hilt of a sword. In between throbs, he could hear a voice, a man’s voice. _The dragon has three heads._

**KING’S LANDING.**

Ribbons decorated the city in black and red, and children ran around with small wooden toy replicas of Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion. The walls to the city as well as the Red Keep had both been repaired for the most part, with gargantuan Targaryen flags covering any unfinished construction. The streets had been scrubbed clean of blood and guts from the Battle, and the city looked pristine from the Red Keep all the way to Flea Bottom. 

Arya and Sansa, having joined Jon on the trip south, gawked at the display of fervor in the capital. “These people have no idea what’s coming, I pity them.” Sansa said, after side-stepping a child that had run in their path. They were trailed by a small contingent of bannermen, flying the Stark colors high and proud. As they approached the gates to the Red Keep, they could see the flags of the other non-royal great houses of Westeros flying just below the Targaryen sigil on the walls of the Keep.

The Stark children shot a look at each other. “Why is the North not represented here? Why were we even invited?” Arya pondered worriedly. Jon shook his head and pushed on. Once inside, they were led to the Throne Room, where the other Lords of Westeros had gathered in a crowd facing the Iron Throne. The three Starks pushed towards the front, where the other Lords Paramount stood in waiting. 

The Throne Room was adorned in black and red, with the damaged part of the room having been renovated with a balcony, one that allowed room for a dragon and opened to the side of the Throne.

Robin Arryn, Yara Greyjoy, Olenna Tyrell, Ellaria Sand, a less-than elegant Jaime Lannister who was flanked by a pair of Unsullied, and Edmure Tully all stood together with their respective parties, with the latter gaining Sansa’s attention. She began to move to speak to her uncle, but the room was called to attention. The doors to the Throne Room swung open, with a pair of Unsullied entering first, holding the doors open. 

Grey Worm, in full battle armor now boasting a Targaryen sigil on the shoulder, entered, followed by Missandei who wore a black silk dress. They walked up the steps of the Throne, each taking a position on either side. 

“Lords of Westeros, for too long you have been ruled by a pretender dynasty.” Missandei commanded the attention of the room. “You all, as a result of the Usurper’s crimes, have suffered under crippling debt, bloody war, and are unprepared for the winter to come.” The room tensed at her words.

“However, there is no reason to fear. The Mother of Dragons has returned to Westeros to reclaim what is hers and to defend the realm from all the threats that would harm it. I present to you,”

A sound was heard outside, the beating of wings. Then, a cry from Drogon that shook the entire room. Lords and soldiers alike shifted in their clothing, with the hair on the back of their necks.

“...The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Drogon landed softly on the balcony and glared at the people inside the Throne Room, causing a stir. Daenerys lowered herself upon Drogon’s wing and strode into the room. 

Her hair was braided with jewels and bells ringing while they hung from her locks. While she made her way to the steps, Ser Jorah entered from the side of the room, taking his place next to Grey Worm.

He was followed by Lucas Spirre, who entered and took place next to Lady Olenna. 

As she scaled the steps, her black dress dragged along the back, showing off the bright red jewels that were sewn into the finest Essosi silks. 

She turned to face the audience gathered before her. The room was again opened, this time a handmaiden carrying a cushion with a crown lying on it entered, flanked by Qhono and another screamer.

Qhono scaled the steps, standing next to Missandei, who received the crown from the handmaiden. 

She stepped forward. “I now proclaim Daenerys of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, The Unburnt, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Protector of the Realm, Lady Regent of the Seven Kingdoms, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons. Long may she reign.”

Missandei turned and placed the crown on Daenerys’ head. It was gold, with rubies decorating the sides. At the front, just above the Queen’s forehead, a large three-headed dragon made completely of jewels dominated the front of the crown, cementing the return of the dragonlords to Westeros.

The room echoed, “Long may she reign”, and was followed by massive cheers from her supporters. 

Daenerys was stoic, and took seat on the Iron Throne. She surveyed the room, looking for _him_ . She kept looking, until she saw Jon Snow, along with his two sisters. She smiled. _His bitch of a sister now gets to see what a queen looks like_.

“Lords and Ladies of Westeros.” Daenerys began. “A new era has been ushered upon us, and a new nation has been born from the ashes of dragonfire. From the Bay of Dragons to the Eyrie of Arryn, the Targaryen flag unites us as one people, to stand tall against the wars to come.” Jon peeked his head at the last statement. _Maybe there is hope_ …

“Now, let us celebrate. You will all be guests of the crown for a feast tonight, but for now, you are all excused to do as you please until then.” Daenerys smiled.

As the entire crowd left the room, she zeroed in on Jon. “House Stark, stay and chat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the comments! I apologize for the slow update for this chapter, I got caught up with IRL stuff and couldn't write for a bit, but here it is! What do you think Daenerys is going to say to the Stark party in Chapter 5? Is she going to march north to help in the war against the Night King? Let me know what you think! As always, see you next time! ~


	5. THE KING IN THE NORTH

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys holds court. The North fights the dead and declares their King once again.

“During the War of Conquest, your ancestor, Torrhen Stark, bent the knee and surrendered his crown to my ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror.” Daenerys stared with daggers at the Stark party. They had been isolated in the room, leaving Daenerys’ voice to echo on the ancient walls of the castle.

“I strongly urge you do the same,  _ Lord _ Snow.” She finished her statement by leaning her chin on her fist, awaiting a response. 

Sansa glanced at Jon, who was grimacing. Arya watched in awe as one of the dragonlords she admired so much as a child sat upon the Iron Throne. “No! Absolutely  _ not _ . The North is an independent kingdom and  _ WILL _ remain so!” Sansa yelled, clenching her fists.

Daenerys chuckled. “Funny, I don’t remember asking you. What was your name again? Sandor? Sunrise? Something like that?” She tapped her forehead, fake-wondering about the identity of Sansa Stark. 

Sansa’s face ran red, and Jon placed his hand on her shoulder. “Your Grace, please. There are greater things to worry about than titles. The Army of the Dead marches as we speak, and they are a greater threat than any petty ruler. We need your help, the North can’t hold the Army of the Dead ourselves, they number too many. We need to make our stand against them at Winterfell, it’s the most defensible castle in the North, should they get past the wall.”

Daenerys’ face went stone cold. The image of her child Viserion being butchered by the Night King due to her decision to go north to save Jon Snow past the wall played in her head, as it did each and every night. 

“Lord Snow,” Daenerys began. Her repetition of the title ‘Lord’ bought another glare from Sansa. “How long has the wall stood? Eight thousand years? Why would we doubt it now?” She stood. Jon began to speak, but Dany cut him off. “You would have me sacrifice my armies and dragons to fight a threat that I’m not sure even  _ exists? _ ” She said, lying at the end.

“Your Grace, you have to believe me. I fought them at Hardhome. I’ve seen it with my own eyes… I--” Jon began to speak again before he was cut off again. “I will make a deal with you. Bend the knee, and the North shall be fed by grain from the Reach as well as meat from the South. The Northern people are to retreat south of the Neck and make their stand, where they will be supported by the Southern armies.” She stood and walked down the stairs to the throne.

As she descended, the screams of the dragons could be heard outside the balcony. She came face-to-face with Jon Snow, in the same position she was in when he murdered her. This time, she was prepared. Grey Worm, Jorah, and Qhono surrounded them, ready for Jon to make a move. “Throw your crown at my feet, and you shall receive help.” As much as Daenerys did not want to fight the Dead again, she knew that they were a tangible threat to her realm. 

Jon stood, stoically. He looked at Sansa, who shook her head and gave Daenerys an icy stare. Arya looked just as lost and indecisive as Jon, until he finally decided. He needed help, but his people had chosen him to lead them, not a southern leader. The same people who had helped him retake the North from the Boltons. He could not betray Sansa, who was a victim of those same Boltons. 

“I decline.” Jon said flatly. Daenerys smiled. Sunlight poured through the windows of the Throne Room, illuminating the jewels in her crown

“Fine then. The North is now an independent kingdom free of it’s southern  _ shackles _ . It will no longer receive aid or trade from the south, and will no longer accept any communication unless it is a surrender to the Iron Throne.” She turned to Grey Worm and spoke to him in Valyrian. “ _ I want them out of my sight. If the one in red hair acts out of line as they are leaving, seize her _ .” She turned and walked back up the Throne, relishing in her ridding of the man who had murdered her in the past life.

Meanwhile, the Starks were left gawking at Daenerys’ display of power as the Unsullied surrounded them, forcing the three of them out of the room. Missandei greeted Daenerys at the throne. She turned, looking at the Starks before they were forced out of the room. “You are to leave the city immediately. Uninvited foreign monarchs that overstay their welcome in my city become threats to my people. Do not test my limits.” With that, the doors were closed and the Unsullied forced them out of the Red Keep. 

Sansa turned and glared at the Unsullied who was behind her. “You’re letting a weak  _ bitch _ control you? She’s obviously mad!” The soldier was unamused. 

“We follow her voluntarily. If we wish to leave, we may, however, we don’t.” He said, before continuing to force them out of the castle. Jon was livid, but stoic.  _ They have abandoned us all, and shall face the same fate as we do.  _

As the exited the Red Keep, three horses were waiting for them, as well as their bannermen. One of the Dothraki stepped forward and gave them a blank stare. “A gift from  _ khaleesi _ . Ride fast or we will kill you.” He said in broken common tongue.

The Starks stood there,in shock at the treatment of a house as  _ great  _ as theirs. It wasn’t until the surrounding Dothraki drew their arakhs did Jon grit his teeth and motioned for his sisters to mount the horses. The Starks, followed by their bannermen, exited the capital. 

Jon turned to look at the enormous mass of humanity that dwelled within that city, and sighed.

\--

Drunk lords and ladies stumbled about under the stars in one of the many halls that lie within the Red Keep. It was late in the night, and the crowd had tired from hours of dancing and celebrating the return of the Targaryen dynasty.

Dany was no exception to the parade of alcohol, as she was one of the drunkest at the party. She excused herself for the night, only to find herself incredibly longing in the halls towards her quarters, closely followed by her personal guard of Unsullied and Dothraki. It was nights like this where she truly did miss Daario, or did she miss his cock? She could not remember. 

She racked her mind, and searched for someone that could give her a good fucking. As she thought, she became more ravenous. Then she remembered,  _ Lord Spirre. _ She half-ran to his room, until she reached the hallway in which it lay. She could hear the moans of two voices coming from his room.  _ Damn. He’s already going to work on one of my handmaidens. As much as I love my maidens, they must give way to their queen. _ “My queen, is everything alright?” Grey Worm had snuck up on her, as she listened to Lucas Spirre’s room. 

She had been clenching her fists and begun sweating in the heat of the thoughts she had about the muscular Reachman. “Yes, stand here and guard the room.” She said simply. 

Daenerys could hear the moans growing before she reached the door. Although, there was something  _ different _ about the moans. Daenerys piqued her head.  _ Could it be… _

She swung the door open, to see Lucas Spirre bent over another figure, legs spread wide and head laid back. Dany’s mouth flew open when the figure leaned it’s head up, revealing it to be a man’s. His hair was extremely curly, as it laid on pale brown skin, to about his ears. 

Lucas’ face ran red. He quickly reached for a pillow and covered his member as he quickly began to dress himself. “My Queen I strongly apologize, fo--” Before he could finish, Dany began laughing. 

“Lord Spirre, I would like to apologize deeply. I thought you were having sex with one of my maidens so I was inclined to join, but it appears you enjoy the company of men instead.” She said, with a smirk. 

“Your Grace I--” He stammered.

“Don’t worry. I was raised in Essos, where such relationships are not taboo as they are here in Westeros. Under my reign, love between any two people will be allowed, and those who wish to fight that will meet my dragons.” 

She strode over to a chair in the room and began undressing herself. “Now please, continue. You’re both quite beautiful, and put on quite a show.” 

Lucas gave her a devilish smile has he dropped the pillow, revealing the large weapon protruding from his body. He turned back to his partner, meeting their lips and continued the passion that Daenerys had interrupted, and was now enjoying the sight of.

**MONTHS LATER**

Jon stood at the head of the Northern army. Alongside him was Ser Brienne of Tarth, and Tormund Giantsbane. They were leading every fighting man and woman that the North could assemble. 

The Dead had cracked the wall using a horn found at the Fist of the First Men, and decimated everything north of Winterfell. Jon had sent dozens of ravens south, begging for help. They were never returned. 

Daenerys’ words had stung him, as well as their isolation from the rest of Westeros. The Greyjoys, although having gotten independence from the Throne, still enjoyed special status under Targaryen rule, allowing them trade within her empire, which was enriching itself with tributes from the Bay of Dragons while the North starved.

The Army of the Dead finally arrived. They lined the entire horizon, their blue eyes forming a constellation of death. The White Walkers followed them, ever so slowly. A horn was sounded, and the dead charged. Jon took a deep breath, and screamed into the air, raising his sword, Longclaw. The North charged directly at the Dead, ready to join their ranks.

\--

Daenerys sat upon the Throne, playing with her thumbs. Yet another day listening to petitions from concerned members of the Faith regarding Daenerys’ relaxed rules on sexuality. She yawned as another one pled against the “filth” of homosexuality. “Is that all you have to say? All of you?” She stood on the platform in which the Throne sat. “When I took this Throne, I promised to usher in a new era of peace and tranquility to this continent, and done that I have. Granting those with a wish to take anyone they desire to bed and to wed that person is a necessary step in creating tranquility. If I hear one more disagreement about this, you all will meet my children. Do you understand?”

The Faith members that had stood before the throne trembled greatly at the power that exuded from her voice. “Y-Yes Your Grace.” They said, before practically running out of the room.  _ I guess I have Cersei to thank for ridding this city of the Militant faction of the Faith. Although should they rise again, they will all be swiftly put down. _ She thought as they left. 

Varys entered the room, letter in hand. She had pondered exiling him to protect herself, but his network of spies was invaluable to her efforts at unification of her people.

“Another letter from the North, Your Grace.” He said, before handing the letter to Missandei who, in turn, passed the letter to Daenerys.

As she unfurled the letter and read its contents, she raised an eyebrow. “Well. It seems the North defeated the so-called ‘Night King’, who fell to Arya Stark’s blade. I guess that solves that.” Silently, Daenerys sighed. The one who murdered her sweet child to take them as a mount is dead.

“Send them a congratulation and remind them that they can receive materiel aid should they bend the knee and submit to the Iron Throne.” Daenerys commanded, sending Varys out of the room. 

“Your Grace,” Tyrion, who had entered while Dany spoke began. “They just suffered a great loss of life, and ask them to bend the knee in re--” Daenerys raised her hand, silencing the Lannister.

“The North is an independent kingdom of which we do not have any trade ties with. Due to their  _ insistence _ on being free from the Iron Throne, I granted them that wish.” Daenerys stood. 

Tyrion grimaced. “You can’t spare a pinch of empathy for them?” 

Dany was stoic. “No.”

Tyrion, having still been in possession of his pin commemorating him as the Hand of the Queen, took it from his shirt and flung it on the ground, and stormed out of the room. This was met with a smirk from Daenerys.  _ Guess he did my work for me. _

\--

**WINTERFELL**

Jon approached a pyre that was piled with the last corpses of the dead Northmen, Knights of the Vale, and freefolk that had fought against the Army of the Dead. Their losses were mainly in the first charge, as it was a ploy to face the brunt of the army, while Arya and the best archers the North had assassinated the White Walkers from behind, dwindling the force to a negligible threat. 

From there, Jon had dueled the Night King, with the leader of the Dead besting him and forcing him to the ground, until Arya stabbed the demon by surprise, killing him and the rest of the Army of the Dead. 

The pyre was lit, and Jon’s face watched the flames dance as they turned his fellow warriors into ash. He felt a hand grip his shoulders. The familiar grip made him touch the hand softly. “Sansa.” 

He turned to see her, eyes sunken and tired. “A raven from King’s Landing. That silver-haired bitch demands that we take the knee if we are to receive any aid from them.” She said, with an icy quip.

Jon said nothing and simply looked at the melting snow on the ground around the pyre. 

“Jon, this is not survivable. We must find a way to get aid, the Greyjoys continue to raid the coasts and destroy any trade vessels we attempt to send out.”

He finally looked up and at her. “We will figure something out. Everything will be alright.” 

They were interrupted by Bran, who was being pushed by a visibly worn Samwell Tarly. “Jon. We must speak to you.” Jon and Sansa looked at each other, before inviting Bran to join them by the pyre.

Bran then revealed Jon’s true parentage to him, and was confirmed by Samwell. Sansa glanced at her king. “Jon...do you know what this means?” He was frozen. 

“You have a greater claim to the throne than Daenerys.” Arya said, from behind them. They all turned to see her, accompanied by Nymeria. Sansa had the look of fire in her eyes. “Jon, press your claim and..” 

“No. What is the point? I don’t want the throne, and we do not have the means to fight against her.” Jon said, shaking his head. 

“For now.” Bran said. They all looked at him suddenly in confusion. “Since this revelation, I have asked Samwell to reach out on your behalf to several parties in Essos about support.” 

Jon was bewildered. “Bran wh..” before he could finish, Bran cut him off.

“You are the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms. You must assume your place on the throne, where Daenerys does not belong.” It was then that Bran handed Jon a golden scroll.

He grabbed it cautiously, before opening it and reading the contents. “Bran...this is from Harry Strickland of the Golden Company. If this is real...it says they’re willing to fight on my behalf to restore the rightful Targaryen ruler?” Bran nodded.

“That is not the only one.” Bran said, hand Jon yet another message, this time one that was stamped with a wax outline of a rose. It was then that the Company of the Rose also pledged themselves to Jon, on the promise that a Stark, no matter how diluted with Valyrian blood, would be on the Throne. 

“It will take several months time --possibly a year-- for them to reach Winterfell from Essos, and I strongly advise you to gather your banners and consolidate your power to move south on Daenerys.” Bran said, eyes fixated on Jon.

The King in the North wanted to resist, but for some reason he felt Bran was right. “I agree.” He turned to Sansa. “Gather what’s left of our forces in the Great Hall, we must speak to them of this revelation, and let them know this is necessary if we are going to make it through the rest of this winter.”

When the remaining lords and ladies of the North gathered in the Hall, Wyman Manderly spoke to break a rigid silence. “Aye a Targaryen he might be, but he is still of Stark blood, making him of the North. House Manderly will stand with the King in the North til the end.”

This statement was echoed throughout the hall, with the lords raising their swords in unison, proclaiming Aegon VI Targaryen. They stood behind the promise of feeding their starving children, and putting a ruler they thought was going to prioritize the North. 

Jon sat at a throne at the head of the room, where Sansa approached him with a crown following the cheering. It was a simple circlet, with the heads of a dragon and a wolf intertwined and lined with gold. 

Bran spoke. “All hail Aegon Targaryen, King of the Seven Kingdoms.” 

His words were met with a strong, “Long may he reign!” from the Northern lords. The doors burst open, and three men, holding a chest entered the room. 

They knelt before approaching Jon. “Your Grace, we have been sent ahead by Captain Strickland with a gift for you.” They handed the chest to Ser Davos, who curiously handed it to Jon. As soon as he touched it, sparks flew in his heart. 

He opened the case, and the room was filled with an intense heat. Sitting on top of a silk pillow was a snow-white scaled egg. Jon grabbed the egg and felt it close to his body, feeling the life within it calling to him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was such a fun chapter to write! This marks the beginning of the Jon vs. Daenerys arc! How do you think the sellsword companies coming to aid the North will swing the balance of power in Westeros? What surprises lay on the ships carrying the companies? As always, thank you all for reading and commenting! It's much appreciated <3\. Until next time! ~


	6. THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The North rallies behind its King. Daenerys receives new help. A new threat rises in the East.

Another chest was placed upon Jon’s table. In the recent weeks, countless shipments of gold and food arrived from Essos, with the origins muddy. Bran explained that the gifts were coming from ‘friends’ of Jon, and ‘enemies’ of Daenerys. He offered no further information, with any inquiry from Jon or Sansa being met with Bran going into his warging state and saying, “You will know in due time.”

Jon felt the urge to argue, but it was suddenly gone and he went about his duties. Following a long day of convincing more Northern lords that moving south on Daenerys was in their best interest, Jon retired to his chambers and began to settle in for bed. He glanced at the gleaming dragon egg upon a nightstand next to his bed, which was ghost-white with turquoise accents. There was an innate tugging coming from the egg, as if it was calling to him by name. Jon shook his head and retired to bed, warmed by the essence coming from the egg. 

It was then that his chest began to tighten, as if he was feeling a wave of anxiety attacking him. Jon sat up quickly, as he had broken into a sweat.  _ I need to go outside. _ He quickly threw his coat on and made his way to the railing that overlooked the courtyard. The cool air refreshed him, until he heard the voice again.  _ The dragon must have three heads. _

_ Gods, what does that mean? _ Jon racked his brain, until he heard a yelp and the sound of glass breaking. This was soon followed by the wailing of a woman. Jon ran to the screaming, only to see the door to his quarters, closed and locked. A handmaiden was banging at the door, yelling for one of her companions. 

“ROSLYN!” She wailed. “What are you doing?! Please open the door!” 

Jon quickly pushed her aside and grabbed the door handle, only to feel a searing heat. Arya, Sansa, Ser Davos, Tormund Giantsbane, and a host of Northmen arrived, attempting to find out what the screaming was. 

Smoke began billowing from under the door, revealing the reason for the screaming.  _ Fire _ .

Jon, Ser Davos, and Tormund slammed into the door together several times, until the door finally became unhinged. They coughed as the smoke escaped the room in a fury, blinding the entire crowd in the hallway.

When it finally settled, Jon saw clearly what was happening, in shock. 

There stood one of the Northern handmaidens, Roslyn the other had called her, burning to death while facing the dragon egg. Her charred hands grabbed the egg and shook as they made contact with the egg. She sat with the egg in her lap and was motionless.

Jon and Tormund burst into the room, ignoring the searing heat. It was too late, as she was completely engulfed in flames by the time they reached her. Her torso, no longer able to hold itself up, fell back. Jon, who had been shielding his eyes, turned away from the heat that was burning his face. 

Tormund, however, watched as she took her last breath, eyes white as snow.

\--

Lucas smiled as he dined with Daenerys, alone in the courtyard of Maegor’s Holdfast. 

“I take it you two have become quite close, yes?” Daenerys teased, as Lucas took another bite of lemon cake. 

He smirked and finished the piece of food he was working on. “Yes, and in between you and me, I think I love him.” Lucas’ face ran red at his last statement, slightly stuttering. 

Dany smiled and grabbed his hand. “Given your friendship to me, as well as the loyalty that the Reach has shown since I arrived in Westeros, it is only right that you receive a wedding in the capital, complete with a royal complement.” He squeezed her hand as a tear fell from his face.

“Your Grace, I..” Lucas began, his eyes swollen with tears. 

“Please, you’ve known me long enough to call me Dany.” She said, caressing his hands in support. “The nephew of the man who died fighting for my brother shall always be granted a special place in my heart. Your wedding to Morgan Dayne will be a special event, and should any Faith intervene -- Drogon will be on standby.” 

Their conversation was interrupted by Missandei, who strode into the courtyard with an unmatched elegance. “My queen, Lord Spirre, please excuse my interruption.” She stood before the table in which Lucas and Daenerys sat. “Your Grace, a visitor who claims to be from the Jade Sea has requested your audience.” 

Dany and Lucas both looked at each other in confusion. “The Jade Sea? There’s nothing but ocean there, with but a few inhabitable islands.” The Reachman said, bewildered. 

Daenerys met his gaze and formulated her decision. “There are stranger things that have happened in this world. I will hear them.” With that, Daenerys stood. 

Missandei had fashioned her hair into a quick, elegant high braid and placed her in an obsidian-black tight gown. She placed her crown atop her head and strode into the Throne Room, where two figures were waiting. 

Upon taking her place on the Throne, Missandei stood to the side of Daenerys and announced her titles. “You are standing in the presence of Daenerys of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, The Unburnt, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Protector of the Realm, Lady Regnant of the Seven Kingdoms, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons.” 

Daenerys sat, giving a sense of power from the top of the steps to the Throne. Beside her was Qhono, Grey Worm, Ser Jorah, and Lucas Spirre. 

The first figure, a woman spoke. “Your Grace, we hail from a land called Ossyria. We are the descendants of Valyrian exiles following the Doom. We are here to pledge our help and armies in exchange for protection.” She, as well as her male companion took a knee. They both wore cloth skirts, both being black in color and tied at the waist. Sitting at her feet was an enormous, yet mysterious, bag. The woman’s was complemented with a piece of gold cloth that covered her breasts as well as a head that was covered in long, thick hair. The man was adorned with many tattoos, depicting many sea creatures as well as several complicated shapes and designs. Like his female companion, he wore his thick hair long and curly. 

“We are Prince Vilua and Princess Afa of the House Arnaeon. Behind us we carry a host of 1,000 of the finest soldiers in the land. They are similar to your Unsullied, but they are an all-female army that is trained to kill.” The Prince, Vilua spoke. 

Daenerys was intrigued. “You seek protection in my empire, and from who do you need protection from?”

Afa shifted.

“We...we cannot speak their name. It is forbidden.” Afa said, visibly trembling. “They are currently rampaging through the Yi Tish Empire, and have sent the mighty armies of the Empire retreating across Essos while completely destroying others.” The Prince began to sweat.

“They are wicked creatures, larger than a man with the wings of a bat, with the intelligence of a maester. We have fled our country because they reached our home island before we could while on an expedition on the Essosi mainland, and killed every single person there.” Vilua said, with tears in his eyes. “Your Grace, there were close to a million people on that island.”

Daenerys’ eyes went wide in shock. She could see the fear in their eyes. It was legitimate. “If you do not believe us --” Afa stood, and pulled something from the bag at her feet.

When she removed it from her bag, the entire room froze. It was a piece of chipped tooth, that required both of Afa’s hands to hold because of its girth. 

Dany’s heartbeat quickened.  _ This is fate. No matter how I run from it, I must always come to face a grave threat. Maybe this is why I was brought back, not to fight the White Walkers.  _ Thoughts raced in her head. 

“This is a piece of the tooth from one of them. We were able to break it from one of their dead on the island, as the entire tooth was as long as a man’s arm and wide as his body” Vilua said, convulsing. 

Daenerys had the tooth brought to her by Qhono, who placed it on her lap. It was incredibly heavy, and...familiar. Then it dawned on her. It felt exactly like one of her children’s teeth. This was real. 

She handed it back to Qhono, who took it back to Afa. 

“Very well. You may stay, however you must work and earn your keep.” Dany stood, addressing the House Arnaeon. 

“We have come prepared, Your Grace.” Vilua said, standing now. “Along with the tooth, we come with information.”

Daenerys piqued her head.

“There has been whispers all around Essos that we gained while away from our island on the expedition.” Vilua began, taking a deep breath. “Several of the largest and most powerful sellsword companies in Essos have pledged themselves to Jon Snow of the Northern kingdom. For what reason, we do not know, but we do know that the companies left as late as a month ago, so they may still be on their journey.”

Daenerys clenched her fists.  _ He has learned of his parentage. _

“Thank you for that information, I now have much to speak about. For the time being, your army may stay in King’s Landing until we have found an empty keep for you all to settle in.” Daenerys began to motion for them to leave, when one of her temporary maesters burst into the room, holding a scroll.

As he walked, he talked. “Your Grace, I apologize deeply for the interruption, but a raven with an urgent message has just arrived.” The letter was sealed in wax with the sigil of House Tully, from the Riverlands. She opened the message and was stone-faced.

She turned to Qhono and commanded him in Dothraki, and he left the room promptly. She then turned to Grey Worm. “Gather the Unsullied. We are moving as soon as possible.” She said, in Valyrian. 

Dany then turned to Ser Jorah Mormont and Lucas Spirre, who were beside Grey Worm. “Call my banners, gather them at the Kingsroad. We are moving to the Riverlands.”

Ser Jorah’s eyes widened before speaking. “My queen, may I ask why we would go north at a time like this, we are at--” Before he could finish, Daenerys handed the scroll to Jorah before turning back to the Arnaeons.

“You both are excused. We have official royal business to attend to at the moment.” Daenerys said, and the two Ossyrians quickly left the room.

Ser Jorah and Lucas both read the letter, with their faces gawking. “You’re telling me, that Jon Snow has declared himself a Targaryen and is rampaging south to challenge you?” Lucas said, amazed. “Some balls he has.”

“Lord Tully also says that his scouts have reported seeing countless Scorpion ballistas among his army marching south, who is now bearing the sigil of a gold dragon on a white field.” Ser Jorah said. 

“But why now? Why even attack in the first place?” Lucas asked, as Daenerys began to descend the stairs. 

“I do not know, my friend. However, we are going to have to postpone your wedding, as we will need you in the field. He has the strength of several Essosi sellsword companies at his back.”

\--

Daenerys sought out the Ossyrians. It had been weeks since their arrival, and she had grown to enjoy their presence, even trusting them. The time it has taken to gather her banners from Dorne and the Reach have given her some room to think.

_ This is a bad idea. _

_ No, we need this. _

_ They will probably die. _

_ As we all will should their threat make it to Westeros… _

Thoughts racked her brain as she closed her fist to knock on the door.

Afa opened the door at the knock and quickly began to fix herself as she saw the Queen was at the door. 

“Your Grace, I am so..” She began.

“Don’t bother, I do not care about pleasantries such as presentation. May I come in?” Daenerys said, with a smile.

“Of course, My Queen.” Afa turned and gestured for her to enter.

Daenerys found a small table and pulled up three chairs and motioned for her to sit. Soon, her brother, who had been retrieved by an Unsullied guard, entered the room and sat at the same table. “Princess Afa, when you were speaking to me about your origins, you mentioned that the Ossyrians were exiles of the Valyrian Empire?”

Afa nodded. “About a decade before the Doom, House Arnaeon was exiled and their dragons slain for crimes that have been lost to history. From there, they fled to Ossyria and mixed with the natives, creating us as we are today.”

Daenerys studied her. Afa had the eyes of Valyria, a deep purple, but the skin and hair of a Summer Islander. She was extremely muscular, and looked to be one who trained with the sword. The same could be said about Vilua, although he seemed to be less imposing than his sister. 

“There is something I must propose to you both, for the sake of the realm.” She gulped. “As you know, I have three dragons.” At this, Afa and Vilua sat back, cautious.

“They are not safe without riders, in fact, they are very likely to die in battle if they are to fly freely. That is why I am asking you two, who carry the blood of Valyria, to ride my children into battle against the North, and the war to come.” 

The Prince and Princess were sent aback. The descendants House Arnaeon hadn’t been dragonriders in generations. But, their interest and curiosity was chomping at the bit. 

“We will do it.” Vilua said, solemnly. “We pledged our services to you in exchange for protection. You have provided us and our army with protection, and we will return the favor.”

Daenerys smiled as a large weight was lifted from her chest. What she didn’t tell them, however, was that this was a test of their loyalty. Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion could sense if anyone held ill intentions for their mother, and should the Arnaeons hold such intentions, they will be killed on the spot. 

She escorted them to the dragon pit, where the three dragons rested, laying their long bodies all over the destroyed structure. 

As soon as Daenerys, Vilua, Afa, who were now wearing thicker coats with armor, and their small contingent of guards entered the arena, the dragons’ jolted awake. 

Daenerys smiled has her children made their way to her, excited as ever. They all fought for her attention as she nuzzled the nose of each. 

She then turned to the Ossyrians. “Come. Stand in front of them.” Vilua and Afa obliged, standing hip-to-hip with Daenerys. It was then that the dragons began sniffing the two, up and down their body. Rhaegal and Viserion let out a loud cry into the air, which made Afa and Vilua step back. 

Daenerys smiled. “They like you.” She then climbed atop Drogon, who had lowered his wing for her. 

“Now, mount the dragons as if they were horses.” She commanded. Both struggled to scale the enormous beasts, until they finally found a spot on the neck on both. 

Afa sat upon Rhaegal, and Vilua took a place on Viserion. 

Daenerys looked at them. “Hold on tight.” Drogon suddenly leaped into the air, beating his powerful wings. Afa and Vilua looked at each other and nodded, and leaned into the bodies of the dragons. They lifted into the air, and followed Daenerys, who was waiting for them above King’s Landing. 

Daenerys never in her life thought she’d see it, but her children took to their new riders quickly, and  _ effectively _ . Their first flight was simple, as they flew around King’s Landing several times. In the weeks following, they practiced every single day for the entire day, until the dragons became extensions of their own bodies. 

\--

Following a month of mobilization, the Queen’s army had finally formed along the Kingsroad. At the front of the column, the Unsullied marched in formation, and were flanked by the Dothraki. Behind them were the Dornish and Reachmen. At the back of the formation were the Ossyrians, proudly flying the flag of their house, a white tiger’s head upon a black field, as well as the Targaryen sigil.

High above, the three dragons soared, letting out incredible cries to war. Atop them sat Daenerys, Afa, and Vilua. 

Dany surveyed her army, the greatest in the world, about to put down a Northern rebellion that threatened her fragile peace. She had been notified that Tyrion was spotted crossing the Trident, heading North.  _ Going to join the enemy, perhaps. _

She had also been informed of Jon Snow’s attempt to rally the realm, via Olenna Tyrell who provided Dany with the parchment that called for open rebellion against the Crown, whom he called illegitimate. Although she still didn't trust him fully, Varys' little birds across the region reported that some minor lords _had_ in fact responded to his call to arms and marched south in his name.

It was then that she decided that there would be no parley, and there would be no mercy. No prisoners. A flock of ravens flew below her, curiously circling her army. She knew this was no ordinary flock of ravens, from her past life getting to know the Three Eyed Raven. Drogon dove, releasing a column of flames and completely incinerating the poor birds, whose livelihood were stolen by Bran. 

\--

**THE RIVERLANDS**

A brisk winter breeze blew over the Northern camp. Tensions were high, as food was scarce and they had to ration enough to feed not only the men and their horses, but also the Golden Company’s elephants. 

Men were becoming casualties from starvation and hunger every day, with the sudden march south taking its toll. Inside the King’s tent, there was a lavish meal prepared and a fire pitched. Jon, Harry Strickland, Sansa, and Bran chuckled as all but the Three Eyed Raven sipped wine. 

“She thinks her cockless army and savage horselords can withstand a charge of elephants? Foolish bitch.” Harry jeered. 

Sansa took another sip of wine. “These southern warriors are also no match for Northern grit. This will be a rout for you,  _ my king. _ ” She blushed. 

Bran spoke. “My ploy worked. It seems the dragons are following close by, as the ravens were killed as soon as they started approaching the army. Jon, they are no match for you, as warrior-king in the North.” He crossed his hands. “All signs point to victory.”

With this they all nodded in agreement. Soon, Harry retired to his tent and Samwell entered to escort Bran to his. The Tarly Night’s Watchmen had been specially requested by Bran to accompany them, as he had treated him in a way that pleased him.

As soon as the wheelchair left, Sansa began to rise and walk towards the entrance. “Leaving so soon?” Jon said, raising an eyebrow.

She continued walking and reached the entrance. Sansa looked outside, to their mighty Northern army alongside the Essosi sellswords who had so easily agreed to join their cause. 

“Sansa?” She heard from behind her. 

Slowly, she undid the bindings holding the tent open until she was able to close it. She turned to face Jon, who now had a smirk on his face. 

  
As she walked back towards Jon, she began to unlace the bindings on her dress, until she reached Jon, who finished the job for her. “Stay a while, my  _ queen. _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! This chapter served as an introduction and a few hints to the 'big bad' of the series ;). Also, the new OCs Afa and Vilua are some of my favorite characters to write so they'll be featured much more prominently in the coming chapters. The TargBowl is coming up, and it's sure to be exciting! Do you think Jon will cross the Twins and make it into the South before Dany reaches him? Leave your thoughts below, I'd love to hear them! As always, thanks for reading! Until next time~ <3


	7. THE TRIDENT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle between the Targaryens begins.

**NORTH OF THE TRIDENT**

“...following that, we lure the Dothraki to charge us and we surprise them from the sides.” Harry Strickland stood to the side of Jon, who had a blank stare on his face. A small, white and turquoise dragon wrapped itself around his shoulder. 

“Your Grace?” Ser Davos entered the tent holding a parchment. The dying light of the late afternoon poured in, allowing one last ray of sunshine before Davos closed the flap.

Jon turned, relieved at the sight of his old friend. “Got any news from the south?” he said, embracing him.

Davos nodded. “Aye. It seems the Dornish arrived late to their march, and they likely won’t cross the Trident before we arrive there within the week.” 

Jon smiled. It had been some time since they crossed the Twins, which were barren since Arya wiped out House Frey. It had taken time and some encouragement, but even the elephants of the Golden Company had made it. 

Jon returned to his place at the table in which the leaders stood. A burly man who sported a powerful grey beard stepped forward, clad in armor that was adorned with a neckpiece that held the image of a rose.

“Your Grace, may I speak?” The man said, nodding at Jon. He stepped forward further and turned to face the leaders of the Northern coalition.

“My brothers and sisters, we are--” the speech was cut off by an explosion that rocked the tent.

Jon and the rest of the members of the meeting in the tent ran outside, to see the carts carrying grain & spare food and supplies aflame, smoke billowing into the night sky.

“Wha--” Jon began to say, before he heard it. The scream of dragons filled the sky like a demonous chorus. The Northern camp fell into a panic, scrambling for the ballistas that lay unassembled in their mobile state. 

It was to no avail, as the beating of wings slowly disappeared, signalling the departure of the dragons. 

As several Northmen attempted to put out the flames, the light of the fire reflected off of Jon’s face as he watched his army’s food burn away.

He stormed into Bran’s tent, where he was waiting for Jon. 

“Why did you not warn us? You’re supposed to be an all-seeing magical being! O--” Jon was cut off by Bran silently, until he began to speak.

\--

**SOUTH OF THE TRIDENT**

Kinvara stood before Daenerys’ camp. A large flame had erupted between them as the Red Priestess chanted. From the flames, she pulled necklaces with red jewels at their base from the flame, and the rubies within them glowed a comforting red. 

“From this flame, I shall provide you protection from the Three Eyed Raven, and all magic of Westeros.” She bestowed the amulets upon all of the commanders, and the jewels sat warmly on their bodies once they had cooled down.

“But what of the dragons and the soldiers?” Afa said, running her fingers over the jewels that now decorated her neck.

Kinvara stoked the flame and turned to see Afa. “You are being protected by the magic of Essos, one that is much older than the land we stand on. The dragons are a manifestation of that magic _itself_. They are fire made flame, what is a crow to a flame?” She walked around the firepit.

“The truth is, for the rest of your army, I will have to provide them with only prayers as protection. There are simply too many that reside within your army to provide such protections such as the amulets.” She looked at Daenerys.

“I’ve seen the snow melt in the flames, revealing the black feathers of a crow. What this means, I do not, however I believe that you are the chosen one, _Azor Ahai_ , and this battle will be your reveal to the world.”

Dany nodded, stoic. She then dismissed the council and returned to her dragons, where Vilua and Afa joined her. 

“Mount the dragons, our forward scouts located the Northern forces.” Afa and Vilua nodded, before Vilua turned back to Daenerys.

“What’s the target, are we killing them all or are we just scouting?” He said, strapping on his armor.

“No, neither.” Dany said, as a pair of Unsullied tied on her own. “We are going to destroy their food source, starve their army and reduce their fighting power.” There was nothing else to be said as the three mounted the dragons and took off.

\--

The embers of the flames brought a smile to Daenerys’ face, as she listened to the yelps and screams of the sellswords below.

But, there was something that was tugging at her. It was... _familiar_ . It was as if...something was attracting her below. The feeling was identical to the one that her children gave her. _Could it be…_

She shook her head. _Nonsense. My dragons are the only ones in the known world._

\--

As the days passed, the armies marched ever closer to each other, until the armies of the North reached the river Trident. The Crossroads Inn loomed in the distance behind them, and the sun shone high in the sky. 

Jon’s armor glinted in the sun as he touched the water of the river, taking in the water that had washed away the blood and remains of his father, cousin, and aunt. As he knelt, brooding, he couldn’t help but think about his younger cousin, Arya. It was weeks ago she had been sent on her most important mission, and he had yet to hear from her. 

**DAENERYS’ CAMP**

The day had come. The forward scouts of the Dothraki had spotted the Northern forces at the Trident, where, once they crossed, her army would meet them right outside of the town Darry, which had been evacuated. Their camp was hidden by a morning fog which concealed everything around the river.

Her hair was being braided by her handmaidens, ready for war. The Dothraki women wove her hair like thread on a string, and Dany trusted them with her life. Still, she studied every move on her head with great intensity. 

She felt the fingers of the powerful women move in and out of the locks of her hair until she felt a misstep, then another. Daenerys stood, and turned to the maiden behind her. She was young, but still experienced. She was stone-faced. “Leave us, all of you.” As the other maidens ran out of the room, she studied the girl.

“The art of braiding hair and using it as a display of power and art in Dothraki culture is sacred. My girls do not miss a step, and haven’t for the years that I have had them in my camp. Now I must ask,” she stepped towards one of the night tables in her room. As if on queue, two large Unsullied entered the room, followed by Grey Worm. “Who are you? Or should I ask, _what_ are you?” 

The girl piqued her head. “ _Khaleesi_ , I do not--” 

Dany turned sharply and glared at her. “Do not try to mock the accents of my people.” She turned to Grey Worm. “Seize her.”

The Unsullied moved to grab the girl, before she sprang up, brandishing a blade. The soldiers, in turn, lowered their spears to her neck. 

“Arya of House Stark. Do you not recall that I hail from Essos, the home of the Faceless Men? Or do you take me for a fool?” Dany said, grinning.

Arya bared her teeth, and attempted to move quickly before one of the spears smacked her in the temple on the dull side of the blade, knocking her unconscious. 

She awoke, surrounded by Daenerys’ council, and bound by her hands and feet, as well as gagged at the mouth.

“This is the first swing taken in the short-lived rebellion, and extinction of House Stark of Winterfell.” It was Daenerys’ voice. 

Arya looked up in horror as the Dragon Queen held the face taken by Arya in her hands, showing it to the rest of her camp. 

She let out an inhumane growl, and fought against her restraints. 

“We caught her yesterday in my camp, having murdered one of my handmaids and taken her face as her own. This will not go unpunished. However,” Daenerys motioned for Qhono to come forward. “I will not treat this as a traditional execution. No, this is an opportunity. Her brother--no _cousin’s_ army just crossed the Trident not an hour ago. Let us welcome them to the south.” Daenerys stepped aside, and allowed Qhono to step in front of the would-be assassin.

Arya was stoic. She was ready to face death. The leader of the Dothraki brandished his arakh, and swung.

\--

The last of Jon’s army had crossed the Trident, with Ser Davos reporting to him the final wagons crossing the river. He breathed a sigh of relief. He had reached the south, and now the march to his birthright could begin. He looked forward, towards the nearest town of Darry which lay due South. However, his vision was stopped by a thick fog.

_Bran was right, this is what I belong doing. I am the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms, and the only one who can unit--_ his thoughts were cut off by a distant sound. 

Harry Strickland glanced at him, then at the horizon. The early morning dew still hung in the air, as the moisture of the river behind them created a great mist, restricting their view. They could hear faint cries in the distance, as well as a rumbling. Harry had fought enough with the Dothraki to know what was happening. “Prepare! They have arrived!” He screamed, as the Golden Company formed it’s ranks, and loaded the ballistas. Once the entire Northern coalition had formed, they began to see small figures in the fog. 

Yohn Royce approached Jon, and tightened his armor. “Your Grace, if we do not meet them, they will simply trample us!” He said, in a slight panic. 

Jon looked at him, ever calm. “Very well, prep--” before he could finish, he noticed that the Dothraki had _stopped_. They sat there, for what seemed like an eternity. The Northerners sat in anticipation, as they watched the silent Dothraki from afar. 

Suddenly, he could hear the sound of a catapult, and something was flung towards them. “Shields!” He could hear the captain of the Company of the Rose scream. It wasn’t until it neared, that Jon saw what it was, and his heart collapsed. 

Flying through the mist and landing before the front line of the Northerners was the body of Arya Stark, broken from the fall. Her head, almost unrecognizable from the impact, rolled at Jon’s feet. 

He began to shake as he saw her lifeless eyes staring back at him, in a slow decay. It was as if everything went numb. He called for one of the Northmen. “Get to Sansa and Bran. Tell them to cross back over the river and get back to Winterfell.” The man nodded and sprinted back towards the end of their ranks.

It was then that the line of Dothraki split, allowing for a man on a white horse to make his way forward. His silver armor sat flatly in the cool moist air of the fog. 

Lucas Spirre, having been chosen to lead her cavalry in battle, strapped on his helm and raised his sword. At this, the Dothraki began to scream and raised their arakhs in unison. Behind them, the mounted Reachmen and Dornishmen and women did the same. It was then that Lucas screamed, and began to charge. 

The Knights of the Vale rode out to meet them, moving at great speeds and in formation, with the fog blocking out the view of how many men they were riding to meet. As they neared, Lucas readied his sword. Not long after, he made contact with the first Valemen and the battle began. 

They had ridden out about a mile, making the sounds of battle the only things that could be deciphered from the low visibility in front of them.

Behind the Northern ranks were the mighty elephants, ready to trample the Targaryen forces. With their white Targaryen flag flying high, Jon brought out Longclaw and readied himself for the fight for his life.

That was, until he noticed something. While the Vale fought the Southern cavalry, he noticed that the Targaryen foot soldiers were nowhere to be found. Then he heard it. The screams of dragons lined the sky, yet he could not see them in the cloudy skies. 

The sounds surrounded the Northern army, with the elephants growing slightly uneased. The ballistas sat in the back of their formation, prepared to knock down any dragons coming their way. Ahead of them were the various non-mounted sellswords, who walked alongside the elephants. At the front of the formation sat Jon’s vanguard and the Golden Company.

The Valemen were being slaughtered. Lucas began to grow bored as he slashed his way through the _legendary_ knights of the East, until he saw them begin to retreat. He knew it was time. 

The sounds of dragons continued to fill the battlefield, until they burst through the mist from behind the Northerners and began to incinerate everything in sight. 

“ _Dracarys!”_ Afa yelled, as she led the green Rhaegal down towards the ballistas and completely destroyed an entire contingent of them. She watched in glee as Daenerys and Vilua did the same, eliminating the threat of ground strikes. 

The fire tempered the mist, forcing it to part in the heat. This revealed the grisly scene in front of them: The Targaryens had all but destroyed the Knights of the Vale, who had less than a hundred remaining in their ranks. Their bodies littered the ground of the Riverlands, with the Targaryens staring down Jon.

He snapped. Channeling his Targaryen lineage, Jon ordered a charge and rushed the Targaryens, who did the same.   
  


Chaos began to ensue. With the ballistas aflame, it sent the men mounting it screaming and writhing on the ground, with the soldiers surrounding them looking to the sky in hysteria, searching for the dragons.

They were not spotted again, until Daenerys, atop Drogon, dove straight for one of the elephants. She made contact, with Drogon taking the neck of the beast in his jaws. The elephant screamed in terror and wretched in pain as Drogon’s teeth dug into the thick skin of the animal. The Golden Company mounts watched in horror as the two other dragons did the same to two more elephants, killing them. However, Daenerys took off suddenly, leaving the elephant bleeding and panicking. 

It began to trample the soldiers around it, sending the remaining elephants into a pure panic and trampling the sellswords beneath them. Once Daenerys was satisfied, she burned the animals 

and put them out of their misery. 

With the elephants dead and a section of the Northern army trampled, Daenerys’ footsoldiers flanked the Northerners from both sides, charging hard at them. 

Subsequently, Jon reached the mounted Targaryens, and began to fight. He struck down many Targaryens, in what was becoming a savage fight. Blood and guts painted the dirt below them, as well as the trampled banners of his people.

The field had seemingly cleared, giving Jon a split-second to breathe, before he saw him. Lucas Spirre stood across from him, bloodied and with wild eyes. His sword looked to be permanently painted in blood as he readied it to face Jon in battle. Before he prepared, Jon looked behind him, watching as the Unsullied and an unknown force of women were effortlessly slaughtering the Company of the Rose and Golden Company, and the dragons burned anyone who wasn’t near a Targaryen soldier.

Gritting his teeth, he gripped longclaw. The men circled each other, studying the other. Jon swung first, but it was easily blocked by Lucas. The Reachman then parried the attack, and brought his sword down hard on Jon’s shoulder, which he dodged. Jon began to go feral, his Targaryen blood igniting within his body.

Daenerys made another run, incinerating a group of Golden Company soldiers who had been routed and attempted to run from the advancing Unsullied. 

Sansa watched from a hill as a sea of men were slowly retreating with their backs to the Trident. Tears filled in her eyes. For a year, Bran had filled their heads with the dream that Jon led the greatest army on the continent and encouraged him to lead his army south against Daenerys, who was now slaughtering the North.

Tears fell from her eyes. She looked at Bran, who was stone-faced as ever. “Fucking say something!” She screamed, face running red. Behind her, she heard the pounding of horses approaching. 

Two Knights of the Vale arrived, pulling a cart along with them. They approached Bran in lock-step, and began to push his wheelchair away. “Wai--” before Sansa could finish, the Three Eyed Raven smiled.

“Goodbye.” As the words left his mouth, Sansa got to see the faces of the men taking him away. Their expressions were blank, eyes white. She began to tremble. _What is going on?_ She could do nothing but gawk as they walked away with her brother.

She watched as the men loaded him into the cart, and mounted their horses. Sansa shook herself out of a fog and began running towards the cart. “Wait! Don’t leave without me! Please, Bran, I am your sister!”

Her dress stained in the mud of the banks of the river as she ran down the hill that they stood upon towards the horses and cart. As she neared, the mounted knights kicked their horses into motion and began moving at a pace that could not be matched by the Stark girl. 

A branch caught her foot and she tripped, face-first into the mud. Pushing herself up, the tears that had grown into a full sob fell to the floor. Snot covered her upper lip as her matted hair hung down. Then, the earth shook, and a burning heat emanated from behind her.

Shaking, she turned. Sansa was face to face with the beast of her nightmares, a full-grown adult dragon. It’s black scales blotted out the now-afternoon skies as it towered over her. 

Drogon lowered his neck, allowing Daenerys to get a full look at Sansa Stark. In her past life, the woman had been the catalyst for her own death, putting compromising thoughts in Jon’s head and sowing discontent in her camp after Daenerys had sacrificed so much to defend the North. 

She laughed from atop Drogon. Her black armor matched Drogon’s scales, making them seem as one. Soon, Rhaegal and Viserion joined, surrounding the girl. 

“Your Grace, is this the one?” Vilua said, studying the dirtied girl before them.

Daenerys smiled. “Yes.” Drogon inched closer to Sansa, sniffing her. “Let’s begin.” Dany said coldly. 

Sansa’s heart began to race at these words, until her face melted into a snarl. “You rotten bitch! You’re lucky you caught us by---” her words were cut off by a blur, then unimaginable pain.

Drogon lifted his head, having ripped off Sansa’s legs at the knees. She screamed in agony and became hysterical. The screams became a chorus for Daenerys, who took them in, nourishing her like a babe at the breast. _Oh how I should have done this in my past life._

Rhaegal and Viserion followed suit, grabbing each of Sansa’s arms and turning them into their brunch, leaving only her torso. Sansa was now in shock, completely emotionless, and dying. Dany nodded at Afa and Vilua, who took off and looked for more Northerners to burn. 

Drogon grabbed Sansa’s body and leaped into the air, and began searching. The morning fog had now cleared, illustrating a grisly scene. Bodies carpeted the ground, with the vast majority being Northerners. She had given strict orders to her soldiers to take no prisoners, and they were following suit. 

Dany continued to survey the ground, until she saw him, backed up to the river. Jon was locked in a duel with one of her generals, Lucas Spirre, and looked to be evenly matched. Both men were exhausted and didn’t have much left. Drogon dove, straight at Jon, before banking hard above him and dumping Sansa’s body in the shallow water behind to the King in the North. 

Jon looked to his side, and saw the mangled body of his sister...his queen. All of the feral energy that he had tried to exert onto his Southern opponent was now exhausted, and so was his body. There were no more tears left to cry.

Lucas saw his chance, and drove his sword into Jon’s gut, screaming as he did it. Jon, having lost his focus for a moment, fell from the force of Lucas’ lunge and his back planted on the sandy shores of the Trident. Blood stained the water around him, as his life force slowly left him. 

Looking to his left, he watched as a large group of women were viciously fighting the last of the Golden Company, who was on its last leg. To his right, he saw the countless bodies of charred elephants, horses, and destroyed ballistas. Smoke billowed into the air, and began forming a cloud of death above them.

It was then that his head began to clear. For a moment, he was no longer Aegon Targaryen, but Jon Snow once more. A cold wind fell on him, reminding him of the North. Amidst the chaos, he saw a large black dragon land beside him. 

A figure walked over to him. Daenerys Targaryen. She knelt down and studied him. Jon suddenly pointed to a lone cart on the opposite side of the Trident, alone and unoccupied. “O--Ov--Over there. There is a hatchling within it. It’s--” he coughed blood. “It’s name is Lyaeon.”

Daenerys nodded sullenly. “You know, in another life we had love, and you put a child inside of me.” Jon’s weak eyes opened wider. “We shared many a great moment together, and I even met your family, and we fought in battle together...”

Lucas watched with concern as Dany stroked Jon’s face. He watched her grab something from her belt. 

“...but then you killed me.” She said, fierce as ever. Revealing a dagger in her opposite hand, Daenerys drove it into his neck, instantly killing him and covering her armor in king’s blood. She looked at Lucas. “Finish them off, and return to Darry. Then, we shall celebrate.”

Dany climbed atop Drogon as they made a short flight to the other side of the river, where the cart was waiting. She left his neck, and began walking towards it, when she heard the cries. They lurched at her heart. This is the feeling she had been struck with in the recent weeks. Opening the cart, she found a white dragon, hungry and curled up on a pillow. 

She picked the dragon up and cradled it in her arms. “Lyaeon.” She spoke.

Daenerys heard Drogon rumble, then heard the _WHACK_ of his tail hitting the ground, shaking them both and sending Dany running back towards her child, and saw why he had struck the ground.

On the other side of the cart, waiting for her, was a white direwolf. It sat inches from Drogon’s tail which had slammed the ground in warning. It did not listen. The dragon then lowered its head to the canine and let out a scream that could be heard all the way in Oldtown, sending the wolf running back North.

Daenerys proceeded to climb Drogon’s back and survey the field again. The fighting had stopped, and her soldiers were no longer engaged.

She searched the skies, and found Rhaegal and Viserion fighting over a warhorse, both toying with it, making Dany smile. 

The smoke from the charred ground soon clouded the sky, sending the dragons back to their camp outside of Darry, where she saw a raven waiting for her inside her tent. Daenerys snarled and came close to the raven. It laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh! This was such a blast to write (and I put in some things I wished happened in the show haha!)! I really hope you enjoyed this chapter! Where do you think Bran is going? Will Dany raise Lyaeon as her own? Let me know in the comments! Until next time! <3 ~


	8. FATE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old friend returns. Fate has a new message for Daenerys.

  
  


**KING'S LANDING**

-

A year had passed since the Battle of the Trident. Peace had fallen upon the realm for the first time in an era, and yet, Daenerys could not rest. She sat upon a balcony in the Red Keep watching her children fly over Blackwater Bay, listening to the Spider talk. After the Stark rebellion had been crushed, Varys had finally gained a fragile trust from Daenerys.

His eyes watched the floor as Dany tensed against her chair. “Another week without tribute? And no signs of uprising against Daario?” She questioned the Spider. He raised his head and gave her a worried look. “I’m afraid, Your Grace, that this eastern threat that our Ossyrian friends have spoken so much about might have hit the Bay of Dragons.” 

Daenerys drew a deep breath. Although she trusted Afa and Vilua deeply, their claims of otherworldly beasts tearing down the Golden Empire of Yi Ti always left some doubt in her mind. “I want a contingent of Unsullied sent to investigate the Bay, so that we should know onc--” she was cut off by a runner, who respectfully entered the balcony.

“Your Grace, Lord Varys. A visitor has arrived and is bidding your attention.” Daenerys stood and looked at the boy. “And their name?” she asked. The boy looked her in the eyes.

“Daario Naharis.”

\--

It took less than a few minutes, but Daenerys quickly entered the Throne Room flanked by Missandei, Afa, Vilua, and Lucas Spirre. Waiting for him at the base of the Throne, in tattered Essosi armor, was Daario Naharis. 

The sellsword turned around to face his queen. Daenerys could see the trauma written on his face. His nose looked to have been broken several times, along with a massive scar across his right cheek. Daario’s eye also seemed to be painfully bruised. As she approached, he fell to a knee.

She stopped before him. “Rise.” As he stood, he tried to speak but was interrupted by an embrace from Daenerys. She held him there for a second before letting him go. Holding onto his arms, she looked upon him with great concern. Although she had not seen him for what seemed like a lifetime, her feelings for him had not faded. 

“What happened? Why are you here?” A concerned look befell the Dragon Queen. Daario tensed at her words.

“My Queen, you may not believe me but--” she rose her hand to stop him.

“Speak, Daario. I have seen enough in my time here in Westeros that such pleasantries are not needed.” She said, solemnly.

He took a deep breath. “It started when we lost communication with trading posts in Qarth, then along trade routes to the East. Refugees came, speaking of hellspawn that had risen from the ground and slaughtered the Golden Empire.” 

Lucas leaned in, interested. Afa and Vilua glanced at each other. 

“Then, they came for Mereen.” Daario swallowed hard, then he began to tear up. “We tried to defend the city as best as possible but--” A look of frustration took over his face as he turned his hand into a fist. 

“They simply overwhelmed us.  _ Khaleesi…” _ Daario choked up. “They killed everyone. Man, woman, child. There is not a living soul left in the Bay.” 

At this, Daenerys began to shift.  _ There were hundreds of thousands, if not a million people in the Bay _ … _ if they killed them all… _

“These creatures...were they as the reports say?” Vilua spoke.

Daario looked at him with a somber face. “Worse. See, they didn’t slaughter the Golden Empire,” He then glanced to Daenerys. “They enslaved them. Their entire military is now being commanded by... _ him. _ ” A silence fell on the room.

Dany gritted her teeth. “Go on.”

“They have a leader..he...or  _ it _ leads their army under some sort of spell, as their foreheads bear a symbol...an eight-pointed star.” Daario continued. “He isn’t...human...he is an abomination.” Afa and Vilua tensed.

Daenerys’ mind immediately flew to the tooth fragment that Afa and Vilua had presented her upon their arrival in King’s Landing. “He is a beast, to be sure. But, what you’re saying is that he has enslaved the armies of Yi Ti and is leading them through Essos?” 

Daario nodded. “The Free Cities are frantically joining together as we speak to face him in battle, but  _ Khaleesi _ , I fear it is not enough. The Golden Empire’s army has close to two hundred thousand spears and horsemen, and…” he shuddered. “...there are about one hundred beasts like him that serve as his honor guard. They are the fiercest fighters I have ever seen, they tore apart horses as if they were pieces of bread.” 

Daenerys’ blood ran cold. 

“And his name…” Daario began. Afa and Vilua panicked and rushed him, but it was too late.

“Bal-rog”. 

\--

Daenerys had returned to her balcony, and had sent Daario to be bathed and roomed so that he may rest after his perilous journey. Looking to the sky, she saw her children flying in tandem with the young Lyaeon, raising her as one of their own. She had grown exponentially in the last year, with the maesters crediting the presence of three adult dragons as large influences on her quick growth.

_ Hopefully she will be battle ready by the time those beasts reach our shores, we’re going to need every weapon we can get… _

Her mind immediately darted to the most recent discovery by the maesters at the Citadel: A book on dragon reproduction. She had ordered it immediately transported to the capital by Lucas’ bannermen, to avoid interruption by the ever-plotting maester’s guild. As she continued to pour over the details in her head, she had not noticed Drogon near her position. 

Although he had grown to an enormous size, he still believed he was the size of a cat, and acted as such. His large body landed with a  _ THUD _ on the balcony as he snaked his neck towards his mother, purring. However, he began to nudge her, as if prodding her to stand and mount him. 

Daenerys mounted the beast and, without warning, he leaped off of the balcony and immediately began flying at his fastest speed. Viserion, Rhaegal, and Lyaeon followed behind, unable to keep up with their larger sibling. 

The pack of dragons flew until they reached Dragonstone, where smoke was billowing from a cave on the far side of the island. Daenerys’ heart dropped.  _ What is going on?  _

The dragons flew around the castle, taking a wide angle until they reached the cave itself, which was large enough for even Drogon to reside in. He landed on the beach around the cave and beckoned for her to descend. The three other dragons landed swiftly behind them.

Daenerys was confused. However, as the Unburnt, she approached the smoke-ridden cave with confidence. Once inside, the temperature immediately hit her. It was almost a boiling temperature, biting at her eyes, forcing her to wince farther into the cave, until she came upon a pit.

Her heart jumped, and she dropped to her knees. Inside of the pit, and the source of the smoke, were four dragon eggs, neatly arranged as if ready to be incubated by one of the creatures. 

_ What is Fate trying to tell me? First my revival, then this Bal-rog, and now another gift of dragons?  _

She grabbed one of the eggs, and felt a jolt of electricity run through her body. The life within it was active, and completely unlike the petrified eggs she received upon her wedding to Khal Drogo. 

  
She made her way out of the cave, where the dragons looked at her and seemed to smile. Daenerys began to cry at the beauty of the scene.  _ The dragons have truly returned to the world. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you for reading! I apologize for the delay, as I am fighting midterms as hard as Daenerys fought the Starks in the last chapter! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, as I will resume my weekly uploads ~ <3 From this point on, the new enemy from the East will be completely OC and will be full of surprises! Stay tuned!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you for taking the time to read this work. I have been brainstorming the plot for months and I have finally gained the ability to put it to words! I hope you enjoy it. Leave a comment about how bad of a threat there must be for the Lord of Light to bring Daenerys back in time! Until next time ~
> 
> I will try to update weekly!


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